Disclaimer: I don't anything that belongs to George Lucas(duh),
all I own is this story and my visions of gratuitous
Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon smut. Cheers!
Spoilers for the Jedi Apprentice books, I think. Slight
spoilers for TPM, SW, TESB and ROTJ.
Sequel: Yep! This is part one of my Trilogy series. Part
two, is in the works, should be done soon!
Archive: MA, Jedi Hurtaholics, if anyone else wants it, just
drop me a line, so I can visit and feel happy. My homepage: in
sig line
Ratings: um, mostly PG, probably leaning slightly towards
PG-13. Sorry, no slash, just implications, that's all in the
sequel. This story is: h/c, angst, smarm and definitely
AU.
NOTES: All comments of any kind are welcome, including flames.
Obi's about twenty four. Enjoy the fic!
SUMMARY: When the ultimate disaster occurs at the Jedi temple,
Qui-Gon must find Obi-Wan before his injuries kill him. But
Qui-Gon is not the only one searching...part 1 of a Trilogy.
// thoughts.
The aircar slowed and eventually stopped at an air roadblock
that had been set up to prevent people approaching the Jedi
Temple. But as the female news representative leaned out from
the aircar window, she saw that it wasn't necessary to get any
closer. From here she could see it all.
She had received a call from her superior, demanding that he go
straight to the Jedi Temple, as something had happened there.
At first she had been reluctant- there were many superstitions
about the Jedi and few flattering. But she eventually
capitulated and agreed to go. And as she gazed at the scene
before her, she knew why she had been sent here.
The Jedi Temple had been totally and utterly destroyed.
EARLIER THAT DAY
Obi-Wan sighed as he pulled on his cloak. Today was definitely
going to be boring. His master, along with all others on
Coruscant with padawans, was going to spend most of the day
consulting with the council - //Probably about me,// Obi-Wan
thought unhappily. As he arranged his cloak so it flowed and
not just hung limply, Obi-Wan let his mind drift.
All of the padawans had been dreading this meeting, wondering
what it foretold of their futures. The Masters had been
annoyingly closed mouthed about what the agenda of the meeting
entailed, leading the padawans to make up horrific scenarios
where they were taken to task by their Masters - or worse, be
dropped as padawans.
Obi-Wan didn't know more than anyone else what the meeting was
for, and frankly didn't care. He doubted that every single
padawan would be considered unfit to be Jedi. Obi-Wan privately
thought it was just a meeting that Masters held semi- regularly
to share notes about padawan training. What he chafed at was
the fact that his and Bant's master had decided that to keep
them out of trouble, they could help the aged Master Vashkl
sort out the Jedi archives on the lower level of the Temple.
Archives! That was the most boring thing the active and
frenetic Padawan could possibly do. And Qui-Gon knew it. As he
stalked towards Bant's quarters, Obi- Wan muttered darkly about
Jedi Masters and boredom.
The doors to Bant's shared quarters with her teacher, Master
Averil Cherta, slid open a few moments after he pushed the
doorchime. Despite her quick response, Bant was obviously as
unhappy about the day's proposed activities as Obi-Wan.
"Hey Obi. Ready for a day of endless tedium and boredom?"
Obi-Wan grinned back. The only good thing about today was that
he got to spend some time with Bant. "Now, now, your Master
would lecture you about how stacking archives is good training
in serenity and patience," he said in mock pomposity.
He ducked the swipe she aimed at him. "My Master isn't here and
she would most certainly not say that. She'd probably
say something along the lines of 'shut up and do it anyway,
Padawan,' and so would your's!"
Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. Despite the fact that they were
two years apart in ages and friendships had no effect on who
was chosen by whom as a padawan, the two padawans were
remarkably lucky. Bant's master was a close friend of Qui-Gon,
and this allowed their padawans to see each other more often
than they would normally. Unfortunately, they were also similar
in temperate, and highly unsympathetic to the padawan boredom
state.
"I can't believe we have to do this," sighed Bant as they
entered the lift to take them to the lower levels. "C'mon
Obi-you and Qui-Gon are lovers, couldn't you have used that as
a bargaining chip to weasel us out of this?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "Tried it. Didn't work. He just laughed and
then he grabbed me by -" Obi-Wan looked side on at his friend,
who had a big dirty grin of anticipation on her amphibious
face. "Uh..never mind. He was unsympathetic, to say the least."
It was Bant's turn to sigh. "You never share the good stuff,"
she complained, but good naturedly. Like most Jedi, she was
casual about sex - especially around Obi-Wan. He was her oldest
and closest friend, and they told each other everything. She
could worm the details out of him later - there wasn't time
now.
Bant patted Obi-Wan sympathetically on the shoulder as the lift
door slid open. "Hey, it's not your fault that your Master
isn't as soft-hearted when it comes to boring tasks. If it
helps, you can pretend that each archive you shove on a shelf
is being smacked into Qui-Gon's face. I do stuff like that when
my Master irritates me."
Obi-Wan began to laugh. "So much for Jedi serenity!" he
spluttered, finding the mental image of the look on Qui-Gon's
face as he smacked him with a heavy Jedi chronicle more that a
little amusing. Bant had to drag him down the corridor to see
Master Vashkl to start the day's untempting task.
Qui-Gon stretched his long legs out under the table, trying to
stifle a yawn. Beside him, his friend Averil Cherta, a master
to one of Obi-Wan's friends, caught it and smiled. He winked
back before returning his attentions to the talks. But it soon
wandered once more.
He hated these gatherings. They were basically an oversized
support group for all Jedi Masters with padawans, the 'let's
discuss the horrors of raising padawans and the frustrations
with their training' kind of thing. Qui-Gon thought these
meetings entirely irrelevant - his training relationship with
Obi- Wan was problem free, the boy being an avid student and
having a natural talent with Force manipulation.
And outside training hours....
Qui-Gon fought to keep the lecherous grin off his face. He and
Obi-Wan had been lovers for the past year - since the age the
council had deemed it allowable for padawans and Masters to
have a relationship, as long as the council also deemed it able
to function outside the training arena. While it had taken a
while for their relationship to get off the ground - Qui-Gon
had initially hesitated, unsure that it was love and not lust,
until Obi-Wan had thrown him onto a bed and practically
ravished him - now things were perfect. They had applied to the
council for permission to form a lifebond, the Jedi equivalent
of marriage, only much more, but the Council had yet to
respond.
Qui-Gon frowned briefly. The Council seemed hesitant to allow
the lifebond, and from what he'd been able to sense, the main
antagonist of their bond had been Yoda, because something about
Obi-Wan unnerved him. While Qui-Gon respected his former master
enormously, he wasn't going to let a petty dislike of Obi-Wan
stand in the way. He loved Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan loved him, and
Council permission or not, he would find a way to bond with
Obi-Wan.
Thoughts of their activities last night got him through the
rest of the meeting without screaming, and he was pleased to
find they ended earlier than anticipated. It seemed the current
assemblage of padawans were an exemplary group. Qui-Gon knew
his apprentice was certainly exemplary. In many fields.
The lecherous grin had surfaced again, and he started when
Averil touched his shoulder. "Stop daydreaming, Qui-Gon,
there's plenty of time for that later. We have a free day on
Coruscant, what shall we do?"
Qui-Gon looked at his friend with a small smile. They had been
padawans together, their age difference slight, much like Bant
and Obi-Wan now and their friendship had lasted the years. "We
could rescue our padawans from an afternoon of boring book
stacking," he offered.
"Skies above, no! If we go down there, Vashkl will rope us into
helping. No, they can enjoy themselves down there while we
enjoy ourselves up here. Besides, I'm sure they'll find Vashkl
quite refreshing compared to us."
Qui-Gon smirked. "You are a bad woman, Averil."
"No more so than you, Qui-Gon. Shall we go?"
Like two naughty children playing truant, the two Jedi Masters
hurried to enjoy their rare free day.
Obi-Wan shoved another chronicle onto the shelf. It wasn't as
bad here as he'd thought it would be - Master Vashkl had a
wicked sense of humour and quite exuberantly shared Temple
gossip with the two padawans. She also had a small music player
and it was emitting cheerfully jaunty tunes that seemed to mock
the stillness of the dusty archive rooms.
"Here, dear, you and the handsome young man go and put these
archives in the steel room."
"Yes, Master Vashkl," said Bant, giggling. She had never met a
Master that acted like this before! "Which is the steel room?"
"The one at the far end, dear. It's called the steel room
because that is what it's made of. Was originally a blast
shelter before the Temple grew so big, probably couldn't
protect against a blaster by now. If the roof falls on your
head, just give a yell and I'll pull you out!"
Bant giggled again while Vashkl exchanged grins with Obi-Wan.
"Here, muscle-boy, you grab those heavier ones. Must always act
the gentleman, except in battle against Amazons of course."
"Yes, Master Vashkl," he smiled, hauling the archives into his
arms and following Bant. He briefly wondered what an Amazon
was, then dismissed it.
Perhaps today would be tolerable after all.
Virgil Kassel ignored the almost obligatory fear that was in
the back of his mind as he set the explosive. He knew he
wouldn't get caught. No one on the lower levels came anywhere
near the Jedi Temple, they were too afraid of them. Their
mental powers, their unholy religious ways, they were feared
because they were different.
Very different. And powerful.
Kassel shuddered at the thought. He was an uneducated thief and
natural prey to all the misconceptions and rumours about the
Jedi order. He personally believed they were some sort of
trained demons for the Republic government, sent out to do its
bidding and twist the minds of the independent planets to force
them to join the Republic.
That was why it was a godsend when he had received this job.
Thirty five thousand Antarii credits - worth more than Republic
ones - paid in advance. He could use any method, all expenses
for the work would be covered. There was simply one command.
To wipe out the Jedi.
All of them.
Obi-Wan piled up the journals in the correct order as Bant
began to insert them on the shelves. Behind them, they could
hear Master Vashkl yodelling the words to one of the songs
playing, sounding as if she was singing in Yoda's native
tongue. The two youths exchanged grins as they listened to her
gurgling warbles. Nope, the Vagarian woman certainly wasn't
like any Master they had ever met before.
The two had just finished their task when Obi-Wan lifted his
head.
"Obi?" asked Bant apprehensively, worried by the look on his
face.
"I don't know, Bant, the Force, something feels -"
The young female head turned as well as she sensed the odd
ripple in the Force. "What do you thi-"
Words ceased to be heard above the all encompassing roar that
suddenly filled the air. The room began to shake, neatly
stacked periodicals tumbling to the floor, quickly followed by
their shelves. Only Bant's quick shove saved them both from
being crushed by one bookcase. Both padawan's arms pinwheeled
furiously as they struggled to keep their balance on the wildly
heaving floor.
"Padawans!"
Master Vashkl's cry was barely heard by either youth, as the
sound reverberating around them changed, if possible becoming
louder and vaguely rhythmic, with crunching, crushing sounds.
//The floors below us collapsing// Obi-Wan barely had time to
register before the floor beneath them was falling.
He hit the ground hard, the fall broken by the archive books.
It was suddenly silent, the silence almost shockingly loud. He
briefly thought that the tomes had their uses after all, then
was struggling to find the others. Not all the lights had
blown, and he could see, albeit dimly. His voice echoed loudly
in the semi-darkness.
"Bant! Master Vashkl?"
"I'm here, Obi! Thank the skies you're okay!"
He could see Bant, she was unhurt, thank the Force. "Have you
seen Master Vas-" Both youths froze as a sound reached them. A
cracking sound.
"Obi..."
Bant's voice was quiet, barely heard above the cracking sound.
Obi-Wan followed her outstretched hand to see what she was
horrified by. The wall beside them had a split in one corner
that grew as he watched. The fracture developed from the corner
to spread up across the concrete surface, widening as it went.
Then his head snapped up as the rumblings above them began
again, and he had no time to move before the entire Temple came
down on them.
Qui-Gon and Averil were standing on the steps at the entrance
to the Temple at ground level, speaking with some other Masters
who were escaping their padawans for the day. Qui-Gon's head
snapped up as he felt a surge of fear from Obi-Wan, through
both the training bond and deeper lover's bond. Several other
Masters, including Averil, also had the distant look,
indicating they were trying to communicate with their padawans.
"What is it?" asked a padawan-less master.
Talk ended abruptly as the ground began to dance beneath them.
All the masters instinctively reached out with the Force to
steady themselves.
Then the Temple began to fall.
Balance, with or without the Force, became a matter of luck as
the assembled Masters scattered in various directions, dodging
debris.
The thousand foot high building slowly began to dissolve,
gradually diminishing in height as the lower levels collapsed,
bringing down the upper levels. It was like watching a tiered
cake fall in on itself, save being on an incomprehensible
scale.
The noise was deafening. But that was not what caught the
Jedi's attention. Those currently attuned to the Force screamed
as the energy shockwaves of the Jedi killed began to lash out
through the Force, literally shutting down minds.
Qui-Gon himself felt the backlash, sending him to his knees,
suddenly unheeding of the collapsing Temple behind him. He
could feel the deaths of Jedi as the Temple fell, Masters,
council members, padawans...children. The storm of Force energy
produced by the deaths of so many Force-sensitives began to
build, straining to find a way to be released. And deep within
that storm he could feel Obi-Wan's life force tremble, then it
was engulfed in the tsunami of Force crashing over him. Too
much, it was too much.
Qui-Gon's mind shut down.
The Temple had entirely tumbled in on itself after ten long
minutes, and the ground had stopped shaking. But the horror had
barely begun. Hundreds of Jedi were still trapped within the
destroyed building, they had to be retrieved.
The living had to saved, no time to mourn the dead yet.
Qui-Gon was shaken from his horror by a voice calling directly
into his mind. He opened his eyes to see Averil leaning over
him.
"Averil..?" he managed.
She sat back, her relief palpable. "Thank the Force, Qui-Gon.
You were so deep I thought I couldn't get you. It's a good
thing we are taught how to shield against surges like that."
She was pulling his arm, hauling him to his feet and he shook
his head, still disoriented. "We have to help." Panic was in
her voice as she said; "I have to find my padawan."
//Obi-Wan!//
Qui-Gon's eyes widened in fright and he sent the call ranging
far and deep, yet received no response. He turned his eyes to
the ruined Temple, sending his call deep...deep...Obi-Wan had
been on the lower levels...
It was only with great effort that the Jedi Master managed to
tamp down his fear and anxiety. If Obi-Wan was dead....
He mercilessly drove that thought into the back of his mind,
locking it away. He stumbled toward the debris, focusing,
listening for noises, calls of those trapped.
There were none.
He cursed himself, these were Jedi. Only the youngest would
call out vocally, the majority would automatically reach out
with their minds for masters, padawans, friends, lovers.
Qui-Gon flinched at the thought of reaching out with the Force
again after the backlash last time, but he pushed himself to
concentrate.
//Focus. Help the Jedi. Help Obi-Wan//
But his calls to his padawan still went unanswered.
It became easier to identify where people were trapped within
the building as time went on. Jedi forces on the surface were
equally divided between helping those taken from the wreckage
and searching for others.
The Jedi searching could sift through the layers, as other Jedi
that were trapped could reach further down into the building
than they could, telling them if there were more trapped deeper
within. In a way it was a mental bucket chain, each person
relaying the thoughts of someone above or below them.
The farthest they had reached about fifteen levels down, where
a padawan had been sent to collect supplies. The girl was
physically not seriously hurt, but trapped in an air pocket.
When asked if she could sense anyone else, she had thought that
she could feel a flicker further down, but was unsure, she was
young and not very advanced in training yet.
A flicker.
Qui-Gon had to stop himself from running to the debris and
trying to get down there, to see if that flicker was his
padawan. Instead, he worked systematically with the other Jedi,
using the Force to move the heavier pieces of rubble and to
stabilise the shifting ruins.
More Jedi arrived by the moment, those not at the Temple
hurrying to assist, having felt its destruction through the
Force. If he reached out, Qui-Gon could also feel Jedi offworld
hurrying back to Coruscant, sending comfort and support to
their fellow Jedi, rushing to help.
It was, in some measure, amazing the way the Jedi were handling
the disaster. The more senior members directed efforts, other
Jedi working with the healers, or searching. The Jedi pushed
aside as many emotions as they could while they fought to save
lives. The Force was drawn on heavily, for both rescue and
healing efforts, as well as bolstering physical bodies.
Conditions were poor, the rain threatened, and it was difficult
to see the area, as tall buildings on all sides blocked what
little light there was from reaching the scene of the disaster.
The cityscape of Coruscant was working against them.
There were some scenes of happiness as Masters were reunited
with their padawans, one or the other pulled from the wreckage,
or friends and lovers brought together, but these were far
apart. The scale of the disaster was unthinkable.
But there was no time now to wonder who perpetuated this
nightmare. That would come later, and retribution would be
sought. The Jedi did not allow their members to be harmed and
let it go unpunished. Whoever had done this would be found and
held responsible. The Jedi did not seek revenge, but to let
this go would be as unthinkable as the disaster itself.
Thankfully some of the non Force-sensitive workers at the
Temple had taken over the task of keeping people away from the
ruins, as all Jedi were needed in the recovery effort. But the
crowds that had come to see stared silently, watching the Jedi
struggle to save their own. Few offered to help, those that did
were told to aid the healers. The Jedi were considered an
unknown entity on Coruscant, indeed everywhere they went, and
it was obvious most people believed that they either could, or
would have to, manage on their own.
Eventually, Republic workers arrived to help, their additional
doctors relieving the great strain on the Jedi healers who
still insisted on taking the worst cases, knowing their healing
skill to be superior to that of the Republic aides.
Time seemed to have no meaning as they worked, but chatter,
both mental and vocal, broke through Qui-Gon's concentration.
Children. He was hearing children. In his mind.
That meant Jedi children.
Qui-Gon swung up and around, in time to see a large group of
children being ushered through the protective barrier. All were
wide eyed in shock, but a quick count revealed that all the
creche children under ten were there.
Qui-Gon let his shocked mind process this thought. Most of the
children had been away from the Temple when the destruction
happened. The wave of relief and joy that surged through the
Force from dozens of minds at once at that realisation calmed
him, helping him refocus. Their task wasn't helpless. Many Jedi
were still alive, and they could reach them. Could reach
Obi-Wan.
"Qui-Gon!"
He turned to find himself being crushed in an embrace by-
"Mace! Thank the skies! How -"
The dark-toned man was deeply relieved his friend was alright.
"I was with the children at the Frantian circus."
Qui-Gon suddenly remembered. There was an excursion today for
the children, outside the Temple, a rare event. Thank the Force
it was today. "The other council members?"
"Yoda and Yaddle are off-planet, they are returning. I'm
surprised you haven't felt Yoda yet. He asked me to look for
you because he couldn't find you." Qui- Gon frowned vaguely.
Yoda was his former master, he should have heard that call. He
must be more weary than he thought. "The others -" Mace broke
off, then sighed. "We don't know yet."
Qui-Gon rubbed his head. "I'm exhausted. That must be why I
didn't hear Yoda."
Mace met his eyes solemnly. "Obi-Wan?"
Qui-Gon shook his head, then felt a flare of unreasonable anger
at the sympathy in his friend's eyes. "He is not dead!" he
rasped, and strode away to continue searching, Mace hurrying
along behind.
He would not give up hope.
High above the Force storm energy had finally found an outlet
for the pent up power. Heavy rain clouds were amassing in the
skies, black and dark. Soon it would begin raining, making
rescue efforts harder and creating the threat that those Jedi
trapped in air pockets might drown. Qui-Gon turned away from
the clouds and the frightened children.
He would not give up on Obi-Wan.
Ever.
It was dark.
The lights had all blown the second time the Temple had shook,
and Bant was vaguely aware of the sound of trickling as she
swam towards consciousness.
It was then she remembered where she was.
She sat up with a jerk, a strangled scream coming from her
throat at the pain in her head. Her eyes. Oh, Force, it wasn't
dark, she was blind.
Hesitantly, she reached out with her hands. She was afraid to
call out in fear that it would bring more of the building down
on them. Obi had been near her.
"Obi...? Master Vashkl?"
No answer. Panic began to bubble over, but then her training
kicked in. Automatically she relegated the fear to a far off
place in her mind, sealing it away where it wouldn't interfere
with what she needed to do here. At the same time, she reached
out with the Force, cataloguing her injuries.
It was as she feared, her eyes were damaged, but as she was not
a healer, she couldn't tell how badly. Her leg was also broken.
//Great. That'll interfere with my mobility.//
Having established that, Bant reached for her Master. But they
were too far down, the distance too great between them. She
could sense nothing, but she refused to believe that her Master
was dead. Averil couldn't be.
Now that she she knew her eyes weren't up to the job, Bant used
the Force instead, taking comfort in its familiar presence. It
caressed her gently, soothing the pain somewhat.
She had known all her life that the Force comprised of all
living things, was all living things, but as she had
grown older, Bant had come to believe that the Force was
alive in some measure, that it could feel, think, even
act independently. She knew it was absurd, but she also had the
notion that the Force was particularly fond of Obi-Wan, so when
it immediately drew her attention to a body to her right, she
knew whose it would be.
Calling on the Force to bolster her, she began to drag her way
across to Obi, even as her senses searched for Master Vashkl.
It was not an easy task to move, the floor was littered with
debris and unstable in some places, and the pain in her leg at
her movement was extreme. Yet by the time she reached Obi-Wan's
side she was sure of two things.
One, Master Vashkl was dead. Two, Obi-Wan was alive, though
badly hurt.
As she sent out the Force in place of her eyes, she could sense
that he was trapped, but without her vision, she couldn't tell
clearly, she wasn't used to using the Force for this sort of
work. She focused on Obi-Wan.
Her gasp was a little too loud, causing some more rubble to
tumble down near her. But she barely heeded it.
Obi-Wan was in bad shape.
He was under a steel roof support. It had stopped them being
killed instantly when the Temple had come down but had trapped
Obi-Wan nonetheless. His chest was being crushed by the
support, and unless she got him out from under there, or they
were rescued soon, Obi would certainly die. All her senses were
screaming at her that Obi-Wan was bleeding badly somewhere, but
she couldn't pinpoint where. And if she couldn't pinpoint it,
she couldn't heal it.
It was hopeless.
Despair was quickly beginning to overtake her. What could she
do? They were so far down they'd never be found. But as the
panic broke free in her mind, her hand seemed to move of its
own volition and it slapped her in the face.
Despite her shock at her limb's involuntary movement, the
motion centred her on the here and now, as her Master had
taught her. Her Master. She hadn't been able to reach her
Master, but maybe she could reach someone else. Someone
lower down, someone closer.
Bant closed her eyes and concentrated on the living Force
again.
"Chancellor Palpatine!"
The tall form outlined by the building storm's dark light
dribbling in from the window did not look up.
"Yes?" he asked distractedly, still examining the ledger in his
hand.
"The Jedi Temple has been destroyed! It has collapsed to the
ground!"
Palpatine finally looked up at his aide, a Toyndarian who was
fluttering nervously from side to side, wringing his hands.
This species were good as secretaries, for though they were
immune to Force-tricks, they were also completely Force blind.
That meant little need to keep up shields constantly, a tiring
effort. "What did you say?" Convincingly false shock coloured
the Chancellor's words.
"It has fallen, the Jedi Temple has fallen! What shall we do?"
Palpatine frowned, his hand brushing his chin. "Fetch my ward,
I think I will need his assistance in dealing with
this...unfortunate matter."
When the Toyndarian had gone, Palpatine allowed a smile to
spread across his face. So his worker had come through for him.
It was amazing what you could twist gullible minds into
believing. He had to make sure the man was properly...rewarded
for his work later. Maul could handle that. He enjoyed killing,
as a Sith should.
But now Palpatine had more important matters to deal with. He
would have sensed the destruction of the Jedi Temple himself,
but he had been aware of the mental backlash that so many
Force-sensitive deaths would cause, and had shielded in
preparation, instructing Maul to do so also. The same backlash
was causing the storm clouds to build, causing the rain that
was beginning to fall in large, pregnant drops. The Force was
releasing the energy of the deaths the only way it could. But
the devastation of the Temple had served but one purpose for
Palpatine, or rather his alter-ego, the Sith Lord Sidious.
Darth Sidious had sensed a strange twist in the Force for
nineteen years, presumably since the child was brought to
Coruscant to be trained as a Jedi. One strong in the Force,
stronger than himself. The One who would fulfil the Dark
Prophecy - the One, who if turned, would bring about the total
annihilation of the Jedi, but if remained pure, would
annihilate the Sith.
The Jedi held in their hands the instrument that would ensure
their salvation or destruction, yet they knew it not. Oh, the
delicious irony of it.
While blowing up the Temple was fun, and indeed, an end in
itself, killing numerous Jedi and severely damaging hundreds
more, Sidious also hoped that the one he could sense in the
Force, the One, would reveal some tangible sign of who they
were.
For that was the crux of the problem. Though he could feel that
they existed, Sidious could not pinpoint exactly who was the
special One. Logic told him it was a Jedi, for even they could
not miss this child's Force-potential. They must be a padawan
between seventeen and twenty five, allowing for him to have not
noticed the child at first, though he doubted that had
happened. The child fairly blazed with Force energy, surely
even the Jedi would have noticed that this child was
exceptionally strong in the Force.
Hopefully the incident at the Temple would trick the One into
showing its power and revealing itself. Then the Sith could
step in and ensure that they served the Dark.
It was forbidden for Sith to have more than one apprentice, but
that didn't bother Sidious. While Maul was an excellent
student, he would be nothing on this child. The one the Jedi
called the 'Chosen One,' foolishly believing they would bring
balance to the Force when the One would tip the scales forever.
No, Maul was eventually expendable. But not yet. Sidious still
had need of him yet.
Behind him, the door slid open and he felt the faint shimmer of
his apprentice's presence. "Ah, my ward. I have need of your
assistance."
He turned to face Maul, aware of the Toyndarian hanging
nervously behind him. // I have a task for you, involving a
certain...employee...//
"Master Jinn!"
Qui-Gon looked up as a young padawan who was a member of the
search team ran to him. Her arm was bound to her body in a
sling, indicating it was broken, but with adult-like control
she ignored the pain as she approached him. Her hair was
plastered to her head, her clothes drenched. The rain had begun
half an hour ago and showed no signs of abating. All members of
the search team were soaked, and the fear was increasing that
some trapped would drown before they could be saved. The
healers were sheltered in nearby buildings, trying to keep the
wounded dry.
The sight of the wet, injured girl constricted Qui-Gon's heart.
//Even the young are hurt..// But a brick wall hit this
despairing train of thought as Averil appeared behind the
padawan.
"Qui-Gon, I have established contact with Bant!"
The Jedi Master was on his feet in seconds. "Where is she? Is
she alright, is Obi-Wan with her?"
The female Master held up her hand to stop his flow of
questions. "I learnt her position when they reached her through
the mental search line. She must have been unconscious when we
first looked down there and we couldn't sense her. She is far
down in the debris, perhaps even one hundred metres. It is
exhausting for both of us to reach that far when we are both in
such bad condition. I can sense her, no more, I am compelled to
speak to her through the mind chain."
It was then that Qui-Gon saw how pale Averil was, and that she
was literally swaying on her feet. He caught her arm and tried
to help her sit, but instead she grabbed him and dragged him
over to a point in the rubble, the padawan returning to her
work.
"Here. They are here."
//They?//
"Obi-Wan is there?"
Averil nodded, finally sitting down in the mud that covered the
ground, heedless of it soiling her robes. Qui-Gon barely
noticed her motion as he sent out his mind to Obi-Wan. Now that
he knew a more precise location, it would be easier to sense
his lover.
This time when he sent out the call, he knew that it was
travelling along their link, but at Obi-Wan's end, there was no
answer.
"He's hurt! Unconscious!"
Averil caught his arms and drove him from his fright. "Qui-Gon!
Control!" He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and
released them, forcing his emotions back. When she could see he
was in control once more, Averil spoke again.
"He is alive, as is Bant, though Master Vashkl is dead." Both
felt sorrow at this, the elderly Master had been unorthodox,
but friendly and lively. "Bant tells me that Obi-Wan is still
unconscious. He is trapped under a ceiling support -"
Qui-Gon's terror surged again for a moment, blocking out
further words of the other Master. When he regained control, he
listened again.
" - injured badly, but she cannot see where."
"Cannot see?" asked Qui-Gon sharply. "Her eyes are damaged?"
Averil nodded, her eyes sad. "She does not know how badly, and
I cannot tell, but Qui-Gon, she is sure that unless we
get Obi-Wan out soon, he will die."
Qui-Gon nodded dazedly, but Obi-Wan required aid. That gave him
all the focus he needed. "I will speak to Mace. We will
save them Averil."
But as he spoke, he felt his words were hollow. They had a
limited amount of time, and only that time would tell if they
could reach the padawans before it was too late.
When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, he was uncertain at first that he
had truly done so.
It was still dark.
But questions about light or the lack thereof flew out of his
mind as the pain registered.
He cried out before he could stop it, agony surging along his
nerve endings and culminating in his chest. He couldn't
breathe, move, do anything save hurt. He didn't know how
long he lay there, struggling to control the pain, make it
manageable, when he became aware of a hand on his head.
The hand was stroking his hair soothingly, and he grasped that
as something to focus on rather than the injuries that demanded
his attention. After another long moment, the pain was, though
still horrific, at a level he could take. Not daring to move in
case the agony flared again, Obi-Wan spoke instead.
"...who..."
The tortured word was all he could get out. His throat was so
dry...a second later he felt a hand touching his lips - it held
water, gently trickling across his lips and into his mouth. He
swallowed convulsively, then cried out again as pain rose at
the movement.
He became aware of a voice speaking to him in low, urgent
tones, and he struggled to grasp the words. He almost had it...
"Obi, please, you have to be quiet, the roof could come down.
Obi? Can you here me? Please!"
The voice sounded near tears, and his abused mind finally
processed who it was. "..Bant?.."
The hand tightened on his head for a moment, then began to
stroke again. "Yeah, it's me."
"Where..?" Obi-Wan managed to croak.
"Still in the steel room. You have to stay still, you're
trapped under a ceiling support and I can't get you out."
"...oh..." Obi-Wan was too dazed to try and remember what
happened. "..hurts.."
Bant heaved in a sob. "I know, Obi. Can you reach the Force?"
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached out, gently. The Force was
there, as it always was, but it was hanging back, not coming to
him. He tried harder, but it danced out of reach, as if waiting
for something. In a last ditch effort he lunged forward and
felt his mental fingers close around the familiar intangible
substance.
Instantly it soothed him, dulling the pain, caressing him as if
it had answered his first call. Obi-Wan automatically sent it
out to survey his surroundings, as it was too dark to see.
He felt the familiar presence of Bant, but there was something
wrong...a broken leg and...eyes? "Bant.." he managed hoarsely.
"Are..you alright?"
"I can't see," she whispered. "But I don't think it's
permanent. I'm okay. Master Vashkl is dead."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly in grief. He had barely known
the Jedi, but any death was a loss to the Force. And she had
been so kind to them.
But he had greater concerns at the moment. It was difficult for
him to breathe, though whether it was from the weight pressing
on his back or an internal injury, he didn't know.
"Any..help..?"
He felt Bant pat him on the head once, then felt her reaching
out with the Force. "I reached another padawan higher up,
Jaeri. She says that help is coming."
Obi-Wan fought back his despair. He knew Jaeri. She used to
have a crush on him, but they had spoken about it, and she was
now happy with someone her own age. They had become friends.
She was trapped too? How many others? How many dead? Friends,
masters, children...tears spilled before he could control it,
and he felt Bant break off mental contact and hurriedly turn to
him.
"Obi, shhh, it's alright. You have to try and stay calm, I
think you're going into shock." He felt her hand brush his
face, gauging his temperature. "You're cold. I wish I had my
cloak -"
Obi-Wan's attention was jerked away as he sensed the faint call
from high above.
"Master..." he mumbled. //Master//
But he was too weak, he couldn't broadcast far enough for his
master to hear the words. And there must be something wrong
with Qui-Gon if he couldn't reach Obi- Wan properly...
Panic closed in, but Bant soothed it away. "He's fine Obi, my
Master told me through Jaeri. He's exhausted though, like we
are, so he can't reach far. They're using a mental chain."
Obi-Wan let her words calming, pushing aside the fear.
Bant relaxed fractionally as she felt Obi-Wan accept her last
statement. But she was becoming worried. They were so far down,
it would take a long time to reach them.
"...water...?"
She hurriedly reached down and scooped some more from the
collected water beside her. They were lucky that they were on a
slight slope, and the water was draining away from them. No
fear of Obi-Wan drowning.
"It's clean," she said, more for something to say than anything
else. "I think it's raining, and the water's running down from
above. There's as much as you want."
She gently trickled it into his mouth, flinching at the pain
she felt from him when he tried to swallow. "Just take it slow,
Obi...you'll be fine."
//Please// she begged in the silent confines of her mind //let
help come soon//
Virgil Kassel woke in the dim early afternoon light that fought
its way down to the lower levels, disoriented for a second. He
blearily dragged a hand across his eyes before focusing on the
figure that had woken him.
Kassel had set the explosives early that morning, the night
providing a more suitable environment for the thief. However, a
night schedule resulted in a daytime sleep schedule, hence his
current position in bed. One sleepy glance around his room in
the dank lower levels of Coruscant had him catapulting out of
bed and across the small space.
"I see that I have awoken you. The voice was hissing, sibilant.
"What-" Kassel backed away from the dark figure outlined in the
doorway, horribly aware that his life could probably now be
measured in seconds.
There was a snarling hiss, and the semi- darkness was
illuminated by a red glow, generated by an energy weapon that
also illuminated the creature before him.
A hideous visage, a face marred in red and black, adorned with
horns, lips snarling back into a grimace of hate. Yellow
hunter's eyes, rimmed in an insatiable red. Putrid, fetid
breath emerged from a mouth full of jagged teeth.
This walking death's head, this avenging angel, spoke the last
words the murderer would ever hear. "Receive your payment for
serving the Sith."
Virgil Kassel had only the briefest moments to apologise to any
listening deity for his misspent life before agony flared and
he knew no more.
The right side of his body toppled to the side, striking the
ground dully. The left side followed it moments later.
Satisfied that he had fulfilled his master's decree, Darth Maul
shut down his 'sabre and left the body where it was.
It would not be found.
Time dragged on interminably as the surviving Jedi laboured to
rescue their own. Hundreds had been pulled from the rubble,
both the dead and the alive, and hours of hard work was slowly
paying off.
There were perhaps only one hundred live Jedi still trapped.
The speed of the work was continuous and furious, the Jedi
using the Force to drive weariness back. More help turned up by
the moment, some in the form of back up Republic worker,
bystanders whose concern for those hurt outweighed their fear
of the Jedi, but most in the form of the Jedi returning to
Coruscant from offworld.
Their concerted efforts saw the possibility of all the injured
being rescued before sundown, which spared those searching the
dangers of doing so in the dark.
However, this reassurance meant little to Qui- Gon. He was
exhausted from hours of searching, and felt as though they were
no closer to his padawan. Deeper, they carefully dug,
excavation droids aiding them, the Force being used liberally
to prevent the debris shifting and crushing the workers.
As dusk rapidly approached, Qui-Gon paused in his work to wipe
his forehead. Rain sheeted into his eyes, making it hard to
see. He was waiting for Mace to give him an update as to how
many were still trapped.
"Master Jinn!"
Qui-Gon turned as his name was called by an urgently strident
voice. The Jedi was angry that someone was daring to interrupt
his all- consuming search for his padawan lover. Recognising
the speaker as Jaeri's Master, he was suddenly overcome with
shame. He forcibly reminded himself that he was not the only
person affected by this.
The elderly Master Gwiss hurried up to his fellow Master,
concern widening his eyes. "I was told that you know where
Jaeri is." His purple eyes were wide and pleading, and the
Jahanian Master wrung four of his six limbs in his fear.
"Yes. She is trapped in a pocket about twenty metres below us.
My apprentice is also down there."
"With Jaeri? Are they hurt?"
"Obi-Wan, my padawan, is trapped in another pocket below Jaeri,
with one other padawan. Jaeri is fine, she simply cannot get
out. All we have to do is dig her out." Qui-Gon tried to be as
reassuring as he could.
Not reassuring enough, apparently, as Jedi Gwiss' eight eyes
narrowed at him. "And are the other padawan's well? Your's, how
is he?"
Qui-Gon looked down, trying to delay answering. He knew it was
folly, but he felt that if he didn't speak of Obi-Wan's
condition aloud, somehow when they reached his padawan, he
would find him whole and well.
Thankfully, he was relieved of relaying his padawan's condition
when Mace returned from his coordination with the rescue
leaders. He was smiling.
"Good news! The three padawans and one knight here are all that
is left to recover." The Council member didn't add that once
the living were recovered, they could begin collecting the
dead.
Qui-Gon, for his part, was impatient to continue. Obi-Wan was
so close, and he still couldn't contact him mentally. His
tamped down fear was beginning to rise again.
The four Master's carefully positioned the excavation droids to
begin tunnelling, after scanning the area to make sure they
were not digging in a way that would pose a threat to those
trapped.
As the droids whined and started up, a Healer joined them. Mace
had managed to drag her away from the other wounded, giving her
what information they could about the injuries of the padawans.
However, she firmly insisted that Master Gwiss get out of the
rain and return to the Healer shelter, as he had been injured
himself. Reluctantly the Jedi went.
The droids tunnelled deeply, the Masters highly aware that they
were now thirty metres below the Coruscant landline. Layers and
clumps of debris piled high on either side of them, rising in
precarious arrangements. They took turns in sustaining a
Force-bubble, the energy shield protecting them.
Work proceeded quickly, as there were many helping hands eager
to free the last of the trapped. Periodically, mental calls
were sent to the knight that was trapped just below them. It
was only a few more minutes work to clear the debris, and the
knight was able to pull itself from the hole, virtually
unharmed. The Zebeebian shook itself, extending and stretching
it's wings as it spoke with Master Windu.
"You have a healer ready? Good. I have been I have been
informed through Jaeri that Kenobi's condition has
deteriorated."
Qui-Gon shoved aside the chill at those words and reached out
instead. While they were all exhausted, a fact that greatly
reduced the radius and distance in which they could communicate
telepathically, Jaeri was close enough that they should now be
able to contact her directly.
//Padawan Jaeri, can you hear me? I am Master Qui-Gon, we're
here to get you out//
The response was immediate and elicited a whooping cheer from
the rescue group.
//I'm here, I can hear you!//
Qui-Gon breathed out evenly, forcing tension out with it. He
could feel the Healer touch his shoulder, entering the mental
connection.
//Jaeri, I'm Master Healer Xanetia. Are you injured?//
//No, just stuck in this pocket. But we need a Healer,
Obi-Wan's hurt badly, Master.//
//We're coming, padawan, just try to stay calm.//
As Qui-Gon mentally pegged her location and relayed it to the
diggers so they would not hurt the girl, he felt his heart
lighten at the knowledge that he would be with Obi-Wan again
soon.
With a hydraulic squeal, the droids started up once more,
steadily breaking a tunnel down diagonally. As dusk drew
closer, the workers now felt confident they could have everyone
out by nightfall.
It was just a matter of time. The question was, did those
trapped have that time to spare?
Obi-Wan bit his lip against another burst of pain. His world
had reduced to trying to ride out the waves of hurt that
periodically flooded his body. It felt as though the agony had
always been a part of him, but that did not make the hurt any
less.
The padawan attempted to regulate his breathing, trying to
maximise the use of the small amount of oxygen he managed to
draw in with each breath. He soon gave up, the effort of doing
so was making him dizzy.
He could feel Bant sending him as much healing energy as she
could, and he was grateful. He knew full well that on his own,
he would not be able to keep the agony at bay. He wondered idly
how long they had been down there.
He and Bant had been talking about everything, anything to keep
their minds off their injuries and their predicament. But it
was becoming increasingly difficult to forget maturity and give
into the ever-present panic. The maddening sound of water
trickling down from the world above was no help, simultaneously
driving them to distraction with its constant echo and
reminding them that they were trapped.
Obi-Wan shifted slightly under the bar, biting back a moan at
the pain the movement elicited. But he had a bigger problem. He
could feel the cough rattling around in his chest, trying to
emerge. He was desperately trying to hold it in, knowing that
to release it would result in even more pain, and he wasn't
sure how much more he could take.
The cough wormed its way up his throat, refusing to be
contained. He barely had time to gasp Bant's name before it
burst forth from his throat, exploding his vision into pure
white. He struggled to breathe, felt Bant holding him,
whispering to him, and latched onto her voice as an anchor once
more.
"That's it, just take as deep a breath as you can and push the
pain back. That's right, just like we were taught. Relegate the
pain to a corner of your mind and just lock it away. You're
okay, Obi, just breathe..."
He let her talk him though the pain, finally it subsided. He
opened his eyes tiredly, saw only the blackness of their prison
and closed his eyes again. He listened as Bant began to tell
him about when she was chosen as a padawan, a story he had
heard many times before. But her voice was comforting and he
let himself drift.
Concentration wavered in and out of his grasp, and he knew at
least some of what he said to Bant was non-sensical. But he
couldn't help it, he hurt, he was cold, and he just wanted the
pain to go away.
Bant was becoming more and more worried about her friend.
He was becoming increasingly confused, which she recognised as
a symptom of oxygen deprivation. She knew he wasn't able to
breathe properly due to his position, and he was sliding deeper
into shock. She'd used as much of the Force as she could to
heal him, wrapped it around him to try and make a
Force-blanket, but it wouldn't be enough.
He would die.
She watched as Obi-Wan's eyelids dropped, lifted, fell again.
He w as fighting unconsciousness. Allowing herself to give in
to the panic just a little, she reached up to Jaeri again.
The younger padawan answered her mental query immediately, and
Bant received the impression that she was glad to have someone
to talk to . Belatedly, the Calamarian remembered that Jaeri
was alone in her air pocket.
//Jaeri, how long before help gets to us?// she asked.
//I don't know, I'll ask the Knight above me...//
Silence reigned for long moment. When it dragged on too long,
Bant called out again.
There was no reply for a terrifyingly extended second, then a
joyful mental cry.
//I can feel them, I can hear them! Knight Timm has been
rescued, and Master Qui-Gon just spoke to me! They're very
near.//
Bant sent a wordless acknowledgement, accompanied by her own
delight at the news.
She turned her attention back to Obi-Wan.
She touched his forehead lightly. The contact made his feelings
flow into her - he wasn't capable of shielding at this point.
The wave of tiredness and hurt emanating from him matched her
own, and she tried to soothe him somewhat.
"I just spoke with Jaeri," she whispered, mindful of both the
unstable debris still surrounding them and Obi-Wan's current
inability to direct his mental powers properly. "She spoke with
Qui-Gon. Just hold on a little longer, Obi, and we'll be free!"
She sensed Obi-Wan's struggle to comprehend words her, but his
system had taken too much stress and was slowly shutting down.
"Can't...too tired..." His words were becoming slurred, and as
she touched him, stroking his hair again, she could feel
consciousness leave him.
Leaving her alone in the dark with what would soon be the
corpse of her best friend.
Panic set back in for a moment and the padawan again called the
younger girl above.
//Jaeri, tell them that Obi-Wan has lost consciousness again.
Please, tell them to hurry...I...I don't know what to
do...//
//Jaeri//
The voice was soft, yet insistent, rousing her from the light
sleep she'd sunk into. She struggled to place the voice.
//Yes, Master Qui-Gon?//
//Can you sense those lower down still? How are they?//
The young woman concentrated for a long moment, sending out a
probing tendril of thought. She felt the answer, and frowned,
worriedly.
//What is it, Padawan?// She could hear the concern in Master
Qui-Gon's voice for her, but she could also sense it was for
those below her as well as herself.
//Bant says that Obi-Wan is unconscious again. She's very
frightened.//
Jaeri could feel fear at that statement, but it was rapidly
controlled.
//Hold on, Padawan. We'll be with you in a few moments. Please
tell Bant also. We should be able to reach her soon//
//Yes, Master//
Sitting in the dark, Jaeri wrapped her standard issue cloak
around her tightly. It was ridiculous, but she found being
stuck here harder to bear now than before, when she didn't know
when she would be rescued. Perhaps it was because her freedom
was so close.
//Bant?//
//Yes, Jaeri?//
Her friend's voice sounded worried and Jaeri couldn't suppress
a flinch. Obi-Wan must be in bad shape for her to be so
frightened. //Master Qui-Gon said we'll be out really soon.//
//Thank the Force. Jaeri, how tired are you?//
//A little, why?//
//Have you studied how to use the Force for healing?//
Understanding dawned. //You want me to help Obi-Wan.//
//Yes//
The young padawan was nearly in tears as she replied, //I don't
know how//
The elder padawan's voice was soothing, //It's alright. Just
make sure they send a healer, then//
//I will//
Silence and dark once more. Jaeri shivered convulsively. She
hoped Obi-Wan would be alright. But as she slowly thought her
way through it, she realised he must be badly hurt. She could
reach Bant mentally, but even when Bant had told her Obi-Wan
was awake, she hadn't been able to reach him.
She was distracted from her musings by the faintest of sounds.
But after hearing nothing with her ears for several hours, it
seemed oppressively loud. She strained her hearing.
The sound was repeated. A shovel. Excavation droids. She could
hear them digging. Another few minutes, the digging sounds
getting closer, and she could hear murmuring voices.
//I can hear you!// she sent joyfully.
//Good// she felt the responsive joy at her call, but it was
Master Windu who answered this time. //Try calling out//
//I'm afraid// she sent hesitantly. //It might make more things
fall//
//It is alright, little one. We can feel you now. We are using
the Force to strengthen the area around you. You will not be
harmed//
Taking a deep breath, Jaeri called out.
"Master Windu? Master Qui-Gon? I'm here!"
A blessed voice responded. "We hear you, Jaeri. Have courage,
little one, it will not be long now."
Though it was surely at least minutes, possibly half an hour,
it seemed like seconds later when the wall opposite her began
to crack, then tumbled in on itself. On her feet in an instant,
she hurried to the hole created. She could see a hand reaching
down from above, coming for her.
"Jaeri, grab my hand!"
The young girl reached as far as she could, almost sobbing in
relief as another hand closed over her own. She had felt mental
contact during the long hours she was trapped, but nothing
matched the physical at this point.
As the hand pulled her toward blessed light, she felt Bant
reach for her, but she couldn't respond as she was suddenly
hauled out of the ground into the tunnel that had been dug to
reach her. She blinked, rubbing her eyes, the dusk light
streaming in the tunnel entrance still too bright for eyes that
had become accustomed to the darkness. Strong arms enfolded
her, and she buried her face in Master Windu's dirt stained
tunic.
"It is alright, little one," he stroked her hair, rubbed her
back comfortingly. "You are free."
As she blinked, Jaeri reflexively sent a response to Bant.
There was no answer.
Shock settled on her even as she heard Averil cry, "I can't
feel her! Why can't I feel her?!"
The young padawan struggled to unsteady feet. "She was just
there, she was calling me as you pulled me out!" Jaeri
insisted. "She has to be there! Healer, they need a
healer!"
Both Qui-Gon and Averil sent out calls to their padawans again.
No response from either of them.
Only silence.
Behind him, Qui-Gon was vaguely aware of a baritone shout, and
he ignored the view from the corner of his eye that showed the
joyful scene of Jaeri being reunited with her master, who had
snuck in while the Healer wasn't looking. No, Qui-Gon couldn't
focus on the pleasure beside him, his mind was straining for
another that wouldn't answer.
Bant was frightened. It didn't matter that she had been taught
to control her feelings, to release them through the Force, her
fear was too great.
Obi-Wan was dying.
He hadn't regained consciousness, and she could feel him
sliding deeper into the Force. Into death. She was scared and
exhausted, all she wanted to do was sleep. Shifting as much as
her body would allow, she kissed Obi-Wan's forehead and settled
down so she was lying alongside him. Unsure what else to do for
him, she kissed him again. She reached out to Jaeri to ask her
what was happening, but there was no reply.
//Please let that be because she has been saved// Bant begged
silently. She didn't know if Obi-Wan could hear her or not, but
she spoke anyway, just to hear a sound in the still darkness
besides the endless trickling of water.
"They're coming Obi. Just hold on." Tears ran down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry Obi...I should be able to help...I love you my
friend," she whispered as exhaustion overtook her and she slid
into a semi-conscious sleep.
"That's it, we're through!"
The excavation droids pulled away the final pieces of rubble
from the area designated as the safest place to dig, clearing
an entrance hole.
Both Qui-Gon and Averil were forced to wait as the Healer
entered first. The woman let out a brief shout. "I'll need some
more medical help here, fast!"
As Windu hurried to request more assistance, Qui-Gon clambered
in through the entrance.
It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim light,
the area was utterly black save for the powerful torches the
rescue party held. It was by this mediocre light that Qui-Gon
saw the Healer leaning over something. He strained his eyes to
see.
Qui-Gon's heart stilled at the two motionless, blood splattered
forms before them. Bant had managed to drag herself to
Obi-Wan's side, despite the compound fracture of her leg that
he could sense as well as see. Her hand still rested on his
padawan's forehead.
His padawan.
Obi-Wan lay beneath a steel girder, the heavy bar lying across
his back at a slight angle. Blood trickled from the corner of
his mouth, also trailing down one cheek from a cut hidden
beneath his hairline. His lips were blue, a sure sign of oxygen
deprivation, caused by the weight that lay across him.
Qui-Gon became aware that he hadn't moved from the entry-way,
and Averil was pushing him away from it, allowing herself
access. The realisation broke his shock, and he dove forward to
Obi-Wan's side in an instant.
The Healer did not even glance up at him as she ran a hand over
Obi-Wan's forehead, gauging the severity of his injuries.
Qui-Gon gently reached out and touched Obi's cheek. It was then
he realised why the Healer looked so grim.
The Healer met his frantic gaze and nodded. "We need to get him
out, now."
Unable to do anything more for Obi-Wan until he was freed, the
Healer moved to Bant. The amphibian was just sitting up,
rubbing the side of her head. Her Master had managed to wake
her.
Qui-Gon vaguely heard the conversation between the three
females, and felt the Force surge from the Healer as she
repaired as many of Bant's injuries as possible.
A low rumbling filled the air, the unstable debris shifting as
the room adjusted to the presence of more people. Qui-Gon threw
up a Force-bubble to protect Obi-Wan from the small falling
rocks. Once the tremor passed, he extended the bubble to cover
the entire area, thankful to finally be doing something that
felt like it was helping Obi-Wan.
At that moment, Mace returned, another Healer in tow.
Immediately he and the original healer converged on Obi-Wan,
muttering together in low voices and mental thoughts. Qui-Gon
refused to move from Obi-Wan's side, and the Healers didn't try
to force him.
After a moment they looked up. "We need to get this bar off.
Between you three and Master Rallan here," Master Healer
Xanetia jerked her head towards the other Healer, "you should
be able to remove it without causing more damage. I won't be
able to assist, there's a danger that his body will go into
shock once the bar is removed. I need to stay with him."
Mace squinted at the beam holding Obi-Wan. "Lightsabres."
Qui-Gon nodded, drawing his from his belt as Windu did the
same. There was a twin hiss, and the 'sabres flared to life,
one green, one yellow. Qui-Gon bent and gently caressed Obi-
Wan's pale cheek before he moved into position. A brief mental
conversation saw Averil stand ready, and Master Rallan take
over the task of maintaining the pocket of Force around them,
to ensure that the ruins remained stable while they freed the
trapped padawan.
"Ready?" The dark skinned man held his 'sabre aloft, positioned
above the beam, two foot from Obi-Wan's prone form, Qui-Gon
mimicking the position from the other side.
"Go."
The two Masters drove their blazing 'sabres into the metal of
the beam, effectively slicing through the thick steel. Each
kept a careful eye on the radiating heat from their work,
ensuring that it did not touch Obi-Wan.
Averil moved into position as the men continued cutting
inexorably. As the severed chunk was released from the
stabilising weight of the remainder of the beam, the female
master prevented it from crushing Obi-Wan further by bracketing
it with the Force.
It was quickly done. The two larger portions of the steel bar
fell aside, the piece holding Obi-Wan kept up by Averil. Once
the required pieces were cut away, Mace and Qui-Gon moved to
help the others. Windu took over holding the protective net of
Force, allowing the healer to return to tending Obi-Wan, while
Qui-Gon, with some aid from Bant, joined Averil in moving aside
the steel on Obi-Wan, freeing him at last.
The transfer happened in seconds. Master Rallan released the
Force-bubble, Windu picked it up, Averil, Qui-Gon and Bant
placed the bar to one side and Obi-Wan's body went into shock.
Master Healer Xanetia let out a shout, hand on Obi-Wan's neck.
"Lifebeat is unstable!" she cried warningly. Healer Rallan dove
to her side, both struggling to keep Obi-Wan alive with the
Force.
For long moments, nothing happened, and Qui-Gon couldn't bear
it. He added his considerable Force power to that of the
Healers, boosting the healing. But it still wasn't enough, Obi-
Wan was dying in his grasp. Qui-Gon felt Mace and Averil also
add their power, even Bant was pushing what little she could
spare into Obi- Wan's body.
Slowly, Obi-Wan's body began to respond, the Force power within
him building, reknitting bones, repairing cuts, encouraging
blood to flow and the heart to pump. Preventing the brain from
shutting down. But even as he allowed a modicum of hope to
bloom within him, Qui-Gon realised that the amount of Force
around them was far more than their combined efforts should be
producing. Not even Master Yoda could summon the amount of
Force present.
It tore through Obi-Wan's body, healing, repairing. The youth
jerked once then lay still as the Force energy drained away.
Qui- Gon met the other's shocked eyes, and knew immediately
they had felt it as well. The inexplicable Force surge.
The Healers turned back to Obi-Wan, carefully checking him over
once more as further aid finally arrived.
"Alright, please stand back, Masters, Obi-Wan is still badly
hurt room here."
Reluctantly, Qui-Gon, Mace, Averil and Bant stood back as the
Healers prepared to move Obi- Wan from the hole that had been
his prison for the last twelve hours. With her Master's aid,
Bant could walk, the Force surge that had saved Obi-Wan had
also sped up the healing of her leg.
The Healers used the Force to cushion and lift Obi-Wan onto the
waiting portable medibed, then carefully directed it up and out
of the Temple ruins. Those remaining followed behind.
Qui-Gon still felt sick as his padawan was carried away.
Obi-Wan might still die, it was a fact he couldn't deny. And
what had caused the powerful Force storm? Sorely troubled, he
followed his fellow Jedi to the surface.
The disguised Sith Lord and his apprentice, ostensibly there to
give support and help to the Jedi, stood watching as the last
live Jedi were brought out of the Temple ruins in the dusk
light.
There was a female Calamarian who was still able to walk,
though barely; she was being aided by a Alderaanian woman at
her side - probably her master. Palpatine sent out a careful
and well shielded inquiry in her direction. Broken leg, damaged
eyes. Both would heal, given time.
He turned his attention to the one lying on the stretcher. A
male, human. Also accompanied by a Master. As with the female,
he sent out a probing thought. He raised his eyebrow at what he
felt from the boy. His injuries were extensive and severe - he
most certainly should not have survived several hours in the
bowels of the Temple. The Force surge the Sith Lord had felt
must have focused on the boy.
It was one of those two padawans, either the boy or the girl.
The Force-surge could have been from the girl, trying to save
the life of her friend, or the boy saving his own life. But
there was no doubt that a larger-than-usual amount of Force had
been used. That boy should not have survived his injuries.
Both would be watched very closely from now on.
Qui-Gon stared out across the endless ocean that unfolded
before him, deliberately placing himself upwind of the
lingering scent of burning bodies. All the Jedi were here this
day, those that through chance or the miracle of the Force had
survived. The Jedi mourned the loss of hundreds of their
number, the emotion and Force use in the air palpable. Those
non-Jedi that had died at the Temple had been returned to their
families.
Obi-Wan was among the survivors.
Qui-Gon felt as though he could finally breathe again. Three
days after he was extricated from the wreck of the Temple,
Obi-Wan had finally been placed in a Bacta tank. It had been
touch and go, but now the Healers were confident he would
survive, though he would be weak for the weeks to come.
Qui-Gon drew his cloak more tightly around him, wishing it was
Obi-Wan's warmth enfolding him. This was the first time in a
week he had left Obi's side, and it was to attend the mass
funeral of the dead. Even as he mourned for so many lost,
friends, old teachers, old lovers, he felt immense relief that
Obi-Wan was not amongst their number. But it had been so close.
Almost too close.
The Jedi Master frowned briefly at the memory. Something about
Obi-Wan's rescue was nagging at him, worrying his mind, but he
could not remember what. The closest he could come was a vague
recollection of a Force power level, but any further attempts
to expound on the thought lead to no result. It was if his
thoughts were dipped in Volhrurian honey, slow as taffy, yet
impossible to hold, dissipating when touched by anything warm.
But the Jedi dismissed it as unimportant at this point. Obi-Wan
was alive.
The dead Jedi were being interred on Misharia, their ashes
scattered in the planet's extensive ocean. Despite the planet's
beauty, it had no permanent or native sentient inhabitants.
This was mainly due to the tangible Force presence that
permeated the entire world. While Force- sensitives found the
aura immensely soothing, non-sensitives were apprehensive of
it, and couldn't bear to stay for more than a few days.
It had been decided that the new Jedi Temple would be built
here, rather than rebuilt on Coruscant. While the Senate relied
heavily on the Jedi, perhaps too heavily, the Council
felt that the city world of Coruscant was too choked in
machines to serve as the Temple home world. On Misharia, the
Force was vibrantly alive, not muted by the overwhelming
presence of technology. Here the Force was tangible, strong,
soothing to the Jedi, and isolated.
There were two major problems with the location. Firstly, it
was rather far from Coruscant, slightly hindering the Senate's
ability to call on the Jedi at short notice. The Council
considered this beneficial, cutting down on the Senate's
dependence on the Jedi, an attempt to strengthen the governing
body of the Republic. Qui-Gon doubted it would work, but as he
wasn't a Council member, it wasn't his problem.
The second problem was the Force presence of the planet. It
would further compound rumours that were little more than Jedi
fear-mongering, as the aura of Misharia would unnerve any non-
Force sensitives. The Council had dismissed this as an
unfounded concern, undoubtedly feeling Jedi serenity would
overcome all. Qui- Gon personally thought that ignoring this
was a grave error, fear of the Jedi was probably why the
Coruscant Temple was destroyed.
Remembering the event brought another wave of nausea as he
recalled the closeness of Obi- Wan's death. Shoving aside his
reverie, the Jedi Master turned to head back to the shuttle
that would return him to Coruscant and Obi- Wan's side by the
next morning. He had been loathe to leave Obi-Wan, but he owed
the dead his presence at their funeral.
As Qui-Gon strode back to the shuttle, he resolved to speak to
the Council. Once Obi-Wan was up to it, they would perform the
lifemating ceremony, with or without Council permission
Obi-Wan's near miss had brutally reminded the older Jedi that
life spans were limited, and he would waste no more of his own
and Obi-Wan's. Come hell or high water, Qui-Gon was determined
that Obi-Wan would become his lifemate.
The Jedi Master would make sure that he would never have to go
through this again.
Bant was fine, the healers were positive that they could fix
her vision, but as it wasn't life threatening, it had to wait.
The best they had been able to do was to partially restore it,
but her vision was foggy. They had not been able to spare a
Bacta tank for her either, all going to the number of severely
injured, so her leg had been placed in an old fashioned cast
and left to heal on its own, though she and her Master were
encouraged to use the Force to heal her more quickly and make
sure the bone set straight.
She had been given a cane, much like Master Yoda's, though much
larger of course, to lean on, as the cast made her lose her
balance. She wished briefly that Obi would wake up and see her
staggering around like this, temporarily blinded and crippled
so she could hear him laugh at her. Just to hear his voice
again.
Her master guided her carefully into the mediunit, helping her
stand in the small area that was quiet after the rest of the
infirmary. The main area was swarming with recovering Jedi and
Healers, but the patients in the worst condition were put in a
quiet area, apart from the rest.
She caught her breath at the scene before her. Qui-Gon was
asleep, leaning on the bed next to Obi-Wan. And Obi -
The padawan had always thought that the phrase about a person
looking small and pale in a sick bed was an overly dramatic
cliche, but now she saw it was true. Obi-Wan did look tiny
against the medibed, though perhaps that was simply because he
was dwarfed by the larger frame of his master.
Or maybe she could blame it on her damaged eyes.
"Hey, Master Jinn," she carefully shook the Master's shoulder.
"Huh? Obi-Wan?" He was awake in an instant. He focused bleary
eyes on his padawan, registering little change in his condition
before finally looking at Bant. "You look better. How's the
leg?"
"Much better," the amphibious apprentice blushed. "I don't fall
over nearly so often now."
Qui-Gon smiled at her. It was not quite his usual carefree grin
he reserved for close friends and her, but it was close. Bant
knew they wouldn't see the full grin until Obi-Wan woke up and
proved he wasn't too much the worse for wear. He'd been in the
Bacta tank and was sleeping it off in a healing trance.
But he was alive. That was more than Bant had been expecting.
She shuddered briefly, remembering their time trapped
underground. But she forced herself to breathe deeply and push
the distressing memories back. That was past. They had
survived.
She and her Master stayed a short while, but both were still
exhausted from both the recent stress and the trek to Misharia
and back. They had also attended the funeral.
On the way out, she nearly wacked Master Yoda with her cane
accidentally as he came to check on his former padawan and
his padawan.
"Hmm, heal you do, Padawan?" he asked her.
"Yes Master Yoda," she said respectfully.
"Heh," the little creature waved his cane at her grandly. "Cane
like mine, have you do. Good for striking ankles, it is." The
small Master wiggled his ears and eyebrows at Averil
conspiratorially. "Learn to dodge you must!"
He endured their smiles, then sobered, a look of wisdom sliding
onto his small gnomic face. "And Obi-Wan, how fares he?"
"He heals, Master," replied Averil. "Qui-Gon will not leave
him."
"Hmmm," Yoda chewed the inside of one cheek. "Talk to him, I
will. Qui-Gon also needs rest."
Qui-Gon reached out and gently ran a finger along the blue vein
on the inside of Obi-Wan's pale wrist. He traced it from wrist
to the elbow and back again, trying to let the faint vibrations
of blood pumping beneath his fingers reassure him.
It wasn't working.
He wouldn't feel fully reassured until those green eyes opened
and met his own. He knew that Obi-Wan would be fine, the
Healers assured him of it daily, yet he wouldn't truly believe
it until Obi-Wan was coherent again.
Qui-Gon gently clasped the pale, unmoving wrist. He leant
forward until his head rested on Obi-Wan's motionless arm.
"Please, Obi," he whispered. "Please wake up for me."
"Wake up, he will. Do not fear, Qui-Gon."
The Jedi Master looked down at his wizened Master. "I know, my
Master, but I am...impatient. We came too close to losing him."
Yoda sized up his former padawan, an act that involved
stretching his neck to examine his face.
Qui-Gon looked terrible. His face was gaunt, deep hollows
underlining both his eyes. It cemented Yoda's determination,
and before Qui- Gon could realise what he was doing, he gave
the Jedi Master a Force nudge.
"Tired you are," he murmured. "Rest you must!"
Qui-Gon blinked dazedly at him. "I am exhausted Master. Perhaps
you could be with Obi-Wan while I go rest?"
"Yes, yes, stay with Obi-Wan I will." The dimunitive Jedi waved
a hand peremptorily. "Go rest you will."
Qui-Gon rose and stumbled out the door, heading for the large
hall a nearby resident had offered the Jedi as a temporary
home. Yoda watched him go, then flattened his ears as he turned
back to Obi-Wan.
"Know you, I do, young one. Know what you are."
For a time he simply sat, watching the soft rise and fall of
Obi-Wan's chest as the padawan breathed in sleep. He was
unhappily aware that the Temple's destruction would be a
turning point in history, not because of the havoc it wreaked,
but because of the young Jedi lying before him.
Like Palpatine, Yoda had felt the unusual amount of Force
energy used in Obi-Wan's rescue. And like Palpatine, he knew
what it meant.
The Chosen One was among them.
Yoda had always been aware that Obi-Wan's Force signature
differed to the Jedi around him. It wasn't something easily
defined, but it was noticeable.
Yoda shook his head, his ears sliding back in misery. "Hard
path ahead of you, young one. Hope you can walk it, I do."
Palpatine frowned. He needed to think of a way to force the
Chosen One's hand, a way to pick out which of the two he had
seen was the child of prophecy. A plan that not only revealed
the One, delivered them to Palpatine, but one that also got rid
of Maul and lined Palpatine's pockets at the same time,
preferably.
After a few more moments thought, the Senator- cum-Sith Lord
leant forward on his desk and activated the intercom. As he
heard the Toyndarian aide respond, Sidious smiled.
"Connect me with the offices of the Trade Federation. I want to
speak to someone as high up as possible."
Palpatine folded his hands before him on the desk as he waited
for the commcall to be put through. Oh, he had a plan all
right. The Chosen One would be his.
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