Storm Spirits

by Sian1359 (sian1359@yahoo.com)

Rating: PG-13

Series: None

Category: Action/Adventure, HC, First-Time

Summary: Investigating a planet with the Supreme Chancellor, our Jedi find all is not as it seems

Warnings: None

Archive: MA, my own site

Feedback: On or off-list is fine

Notes: This is a timed-out story first printed in the Con*Strict 2001 commemorative zine: Constricted By Plot, in which the plot structure was 'someone or something actively preventing our heroes from accomplishing their task'.

The horizon in front of Jedi Master Qui-Gon tilted, causing him to close his eyes. Additionally he reached for a mental steadiness that might calm him physically, yet had to draw on the Force to smooth away his nausea before reopening his eyes. Only to find his companion having difficulties of his own. Finis Valorum, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, looked positively green.

Even their guide sitting beyond Finis looked queasy, although that was harder to tell as her fur covered any similar telltale skin pigmentation changes. She clutched at the upper part of her seat restraints and was releasing and sheathing her claws in an almost rhythmic pattern.

The view shifted abruptly again as the pilot maneuvered the partially transparent craft to better frame a rock formation striating up from indigo shadows below them. Once more Qui-Gon caught his breath, this time at the splendor of the wind-etched strata now arrayed at an angle before this center section of the craft. The guide had assured them that the illusion of figures that had given this region its name and this world its major religion were natural formations, not carved. Qui-Gon had initially assumed it was like overhead constellations that almost every cultures named for themselves after the myths and objects comforting to their early civilizations. But now he had to give these majestic giants their due and accredit them as something miraculous if indeed the crags had so flowed without enhancements.

He could well understand a more primitive Olmeanian culture worshipping these Spirits of the Storm.

"Did I not tell you it was magnificent?" their pilot boomed. Since aJonJo's words were directed toward the third of the ambassadorial party -- and the only one seemingly immune to unsettling nature of the craft's gyrations -- Qui-Gon could only imagine how loud they sounded to his apprentice wedged upright directly behind their blue-furred pilot in the forward section of the craft.

Obi-Wan Kenobi just offered aJonJo a grin instead of attempting to be heard over the craft's amazingly noisy engines. The younger man then turned his head toward the occupied array of seats centered behind the pilot's and offered an even wider grin, knowing that Qui-Gon had sensed his amusement with Qui-Gon's discomfort. No comment over their mental link followed, however, and just as Qui-Gon was about to dryly commend Obi-Wan for his remarkable restraint, they both sensed something through the Force that took precedent over any other emotions.

Obi-Wan whipped his eyes back forward while Qui-Gon stilled himself and reached out with all of his senses. What was first a faint disturbance now fairly screamed of danger.

Qui-Gon had only a moment's grace to silently curse his companion's propensity to forgo the delegation of the duties of his office to his aides, such as state visits. And especially foolish side trips. Oh, he understood how few worlds within the Republic could claim having no rebel factions or political adversaries violently opposing the appointed government. Could even support in the abstract that anytime an important occasion arose that might benefit from the Chancellor's attendance and unless something else needed his attention more, Finis would make the journey. Such as to Olmean for their centennial celebrations as part of the Republic.

Any trace of pride that he and his Padawan had been chosen to replace Valorum's usual bodyguards this morning in making this side trip, or any amusement that Mace Windu, a fellow master and one of the Jedi High Council had not been included (Mace who was even now suffering through one of the interminable rounds of tours and stultifying speeches alongside opportunistic senators), complete fled from Qui-Gon's thoughts, however. He hadn't yet been able to identify the danger, but knew it was imminent.

Ahead of him, Obi-Wan was directing the pilot's gaze forward. Qui-Gon, however, could see nothing more than the dark mass of the mountains that they were in no danger of hitting.

Here, Master, Obi-Wan directed across their mental training bond.

In the instant they melded beyond the bond, Qui-Gon could see what was concerning his Padawan. One of these days they were going to have to test whether he was actually seeing through Obi-Wan's eyes, or was simply processing the same information through his own brain when they did this. But certainly not now; doing this gave them both headaches.

This time the headaches proved worth it. The shadows surrounding the mountains now showed a movement that had not been there even two minutes previous. Somehow, one of the storms that perpetually banded the planet and influenced all aspects of its inhabitant's lives was forming despite all assurances to the contrary when the Chancellor had shown an interest in visiting this most holy of shrines to the Olmeanian gods.

They weren't going to be able to land before the storm overtook them if they continued forward; even returning would find them caught by more than the trailing edge, Qui-Gon thought uneasily. Indeed, new, heavy turbulence was already reaching for the craft and threatened to eclipse the pilot's acrobatics.

While a part of Qui-Gon's brain attempted to figure out whether this sudden onset could possibly be man-made and specifically directed toward them, he reached again for his link with Obi-Wan, this time only exchanging words.

Padawan, strongly suggest to aJonJo that we turn back.

The craft bucked upward then sideways, throwing Qui-Gon against his seat restraints and causing him to lose word and breath. Finis and their guide also huffed as they jerked forward, the datapad the Chancellor was using to refamiliarize himself with a speech for later flying out of his hands. Both spent anxious seconds making sure they were completely secure, but at least were showing little panic.

Nor was Obi-Wan, even though he was not secured. Qui-Gon quailed at the thought of what might happen should his padawan loosen the white-knuckle grip he had on the back of the pilot's chair and an overhead strap. Yet didn't insist Obi-Wan leave the cockpit and rejoin them. Given the severity and speed of the wind shifts, walking the fifteen meters of the narrow aisle port or starboard along the skin of the ship would prove even more dangerous.

Qui-Gon could hear the rumbling subsonic of aJonJo's voice in answer to whatever Obi-Wan had said as he bent over toward the pilot's pointed ear, but this time even aJonJo's words were not loud enough to be understood. Before he could link again with his padawan and monitor the situation, however, Finis clutched at his hand.

"Are we in danger?"

In another man Qui-Gon might have found the hint of excitement behind the other's gray eyes or Finis' overall calm disquieting. Here it was a simple combination of pragmatism and confidence. Not in his own inviolability or luck, but out of trust and faith in the Jedi -- not unlike their own faith in the Force. Spiritually the Chancellor was as much Jedi as he was politician; had either the tradition of his family's political dynasty been less demanding, or his sensitivity to the Force greater, Finis Valorum might have very well been Jedi in name and vocation too.

Qui-Gon looked toward their guide before answering. No fear showed there, even given the differences in facial structure from their own human visages. Indeed, she looked more excited than did the Chancellor, which set off a new alarm in Qui-Gon's mind.

Obi-Wan answered first, though only to his master. aJonJo says there is not enough fuel to get us back. We will either have to chance the landing grid or set down now and wait out the storm.

What does aJonJo suggest? he asked Obi-Wan, holding up his hand simultaneously to forestall further questions from the Chancellor.

Another hurried conference passed between Obi-Wan and their pilot and Obi-Wan's effort to stay upright became even more visually obvious, and in his mental voice -- which now sounded strained and slightly breathless.

He thinks he can climb out of the storm and get us to the landing pad.

What to you think, Padawan?

Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan stiffen. An unfair question, he knew. Obi-Wan didn't know much about the craft's capabilities, or the pilot's. And even less about this world's weather or terrain.

And almost at once there was a definite blankness in Obi-Wan's thoughts though he hadn't directly shielded. Qui-Gon found himself still twisting away to hide his own small frown in reaction to this even as Obi-Wan refrained also from turning his direction. Qui-Gon also worked to hide any mental trace of his dismay.

Even after six years together, the occasional flashes of his padawan's insecurity caught him as much off guard as did his own propensity for turning almost everything into a lesson still off balanced Obi-Wan. Most of the time Obi-Wan was self assured and quite willing to argue with Qui-Gon when they disagreed, but the rocky start to their pairing, and Qui-Gon's initial rejection of accepting the then twelve year old boy showed itself in the oddest places.

Yet even as he sought to reconcile this once again, Qui-Gon had reason to doubt his padawan's reaction was because of insecurity, or at least not the old insecurity about their relationship. He could now sense it was not fear of having to admit a lack of knowledge that had caught his Padawan off guard -- actually no fear seemed present at all save for a recognition and acknowledgment of the consequences, no matter how his padawan weighed in on the decision.

Which meant it was something else altogether.

Whether counted a blessing or a curse, his Padawan had a touch of prescience and could read patterns of the future that were often closed to Qui-Gon. Including visions of their own deaths.

Shaking his head at his hasty conclusions, Qui-Gon gathered up all of the pride and warmth he felt for his apprentice and sent it through the link in hopes it would soothe over the all too bitter realization that as personally unsatisfying as would be their own deaths on this day, even more so would be the failure in keeping the Chancellor alive.

For an instant Qui-Gon feared he had sent too much -- that he had sent the full depth of his feelings for Obi-Wan as his padawan stiffened even further and turned completely away. But in the next moment Qui-Gon heard Obi-Wan's warning coming just a heartbeat quicker than the Force's. The sky flashed completely white, blinding outer and inner sight if only for a few blinks.

The only way they were going to land in this storm would be if -- when we crash.

Then, "get us down now!" Qui-Gon heard his Padawan scream to their pilot just before another, even closer lightning strike blotted out sound and thought. He agreed and commended Obi-Wan's initiative, even as the decision was taken out of his hands.

"Yes," he finally turned and answered Finis with a grin of self-recrimination. One of sardonic fatalism was returned, reminding Qui-Gon all over again why he not only respected this man, but genuinely liked him. So many other politicians would have been screaming curses and casting blame instead of offering amused resignation at the prospect of his own death.

Of course, there was still a chance they would be able to survive this, that someone might be able to get to them quickly enough after the now inevitable crash. Additionally the Chancellor's people would need to be made aware of their situation should the worse happen.

As would his own.

Qui-Gon grabbed his commlink off his belt, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood when he attempted to speak and the craft dropped about ninety meters in less than a second while also jinking to the left. "Mace --"

"Qui … what's …ng? ... 'ere are y--?"

Before he could respond in return, Mace's voice disappeared into another wall of fury and static, the unit then dropping from his hand when for a moment the world once again turned white. And upside down.

Scowling and wiping away involuntary tears, Qui-Gon had a moment to wonder why people who lived with such violent weather on a regular basis would build aircraft with transparent canopies. He then supposed the Olmeanians could have an inner eyelid like the Trandoshians, but the thought his pilot then flying blind either by accident or design brought little comfort.

How he wished his padawan was piloting right now.

Me too, came a concerned but controlled admission.

Qui-Gon also sensed an underlying shy pleasure at the praise that he had not necessarily meant to be overheard. But if not now --

Obi-Wan, you know I --

But once more thought along with the ability to think was wiped out by yet another lightning strike racing upward from the planet's surface. This one splintered across the hull unerringly. Grounding plates redirected much of the inferno away, but nothing could disburse the sudden, thunderous down draft that followed and sent their ship plunging downward as if they'd been swatted by one of the storm spirit's hands.

What can I be doing?

Obi-Wan suppressed any number of responses he would have preferred saying. Instead he said nothing as he used the Force to ripped away part of the smoking console laid out before him. Not only were his immediate thoughts inappropriate coming from padawan to master, but the timing of them was also out of place. Though perhaps understandable given the enormity of their situation. And the likelihood of him dying before ever being able to voice or enact any of them -- especially with Qui-Gon Jinn.

His thoughts then turned to a yelp when a bubble of molten something burst against the hand he had slipped inward hoping to adjust the craft's now sporadic power flow. Pray? he sent back in all seriousness.

Before Qui-Gon could respond, before Obi-Wan could make headway with the circuits under his fingers, the craft pitched forward again sharply enough that his breath was knocked from him, then his stomach as the craft dropped a couple thousand of meters in only a couple of seconds.

The interior lighting sputtered before failing completely, but not before Obi-Wan noted their pilot lolling unconscious against his seat restraints. Can you hold aJonJo so I can slip into his seat?

No vocal response, just his own use of Force immediately augmented to help free and then withdraw the unconscious pilot from Obi-Wan's immediate vicinity. Obi-Wan knew he was a good pilot -- was better than good. But even a superior pilot needed a few moments to familiarize himself with a strange craft, especially one damaged the Force only knew how badly.

A few moments he did not have.

The craft pitched again, this time sideways a few hundred meters before rolling off the glide path he'd been attempting. Gale force winds ripped part of a wing away and their downward drop became a spiral that would have induced nausea were Obi-Wan not already so tightly focusing his energies and attentions on working with machine and the Force to stabilize their descent. Rapidly changing thermal drafts also conspired to push them further out of control. At this point he could only hope he might regaining enough control to turn the crash into something they could survive.

Another updraft seized their broken craft and someone yelped, soon to be followed by a thin, high-pitched scream.

Master?

It's getting a little rough back here. But still sent with warmth and pride, not censure.

Sorry. Although he'd watched aJonJo long enough to have figured out the basics, if one of the instruments before him kept track of outside air movement and wind speeds, Obi-Wan didn't recognize it. And in another few seconds it didn't matter. Something sparked from somewhere down around his legs, bleeding away any remaining power and the rest of his instrumentation.

This time he couldn't say anything even mentally although his mind filled with regret and even more sorrow. His guilt was fleeting; even Master Tiin would have had difficulty flying in this circumstances. And even Master Yoda would have had difficulty in calling upon enough of the Force to bring them down by mental will alone.

Obi-Wan knew it wasn't his fault.

But he could still feel sorry for the Republic and the dark days that seemed inevitable to follow. With Chancellor Valorum's death, the Senate would fall into debate regardless of the provisions of the Articles of Succession. Nor could he think of any viable candidates to lead the Republic in any direction beyond the paths of decay even Valorum was finding hard-pressed to avoid, were they Senate somehow not to become mired in partisan politics.

But even more than concern for what would be left behind, Obi-Wan's regret was for what no longer would be. Not so much in not living to see his knighthood, but for not being an example of his master's teaching. Not so much in dying young, but for never really having a chance to prove that he had grown up.

Not so much in never knowing love, but for never being able to say I love you.

Regaining consciousness came as a surprise, but Obi-Wan's thoughts were quickly filled by an ache that not even years of training could help him lay aside. All but one restraint holding him in his seat had given away. The only reason he'd not ended in a crumpled heap against the hull upon their landing, which appeared to be at something close to a ninety-degree cant to starboard, was because his leg was caught under something. Which meant his sluggish command of the Force and overall lightheadedness might not be from a head injury, but instead from having dangled downward for an undetermined length of time. It could also have come from loss of blood, due to whatever in his leg had broken.

Or both.

On the heels of that realization came concern for the others, however, enough that Obi-Wan could ignore his pounding head and reach out with what few senses he still had at his command. Darkness surrounded him, absolute, without even an occasional glare of lightning to show him where they had ended up. But he didn't need to see to move -- at least not to clutch at the console and partially right himself when it became obvious he couldn't work himself free.

The seat slipped under his shifting weight yet his leg did not. He couldn't stop from moaning, but almost immediately someone else's drown his out.

"M-master?"

No answer save for another moan. Obi-Wan took a deep breath that he followed with the equivalent of a mental one, then pushed further out with his shaky command of the Force. Even without the moans he knew someone else had survived. Now he could now sense there were two. As well as two who had died.

That brought pain of an entirely different sort and intensity, along with a moment of blind panic. But then he calmed enough to realize that his master couldn't be counted as one of the dead. They were just too closely bonded for him not to have known.

The moans were not his master's either, which -- coupled with the lack of response through their link -- meant unconsciousness still claimed Qui-Gon.

"Chancellor Valorum?" he called out next. Perhaps selfish to wish the Chancellor's survival over the two Olmeanians', but even with diplomatic consequences, their deaths would be easier to overcome than Valorum's.

And although not answered directly, Obi-Wan now could hear a set of curses in languages he doubted either of their hosts would have known.

"Chancellor?" he tried again.

The curses quickly died out, to be then followed by a rather embarrassed, hoarse, "Padawan Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan buried what might have just been hysterical laughter; it would not do to be caught being impressed by the other's extensive vocabulary.

"Are you hurt, sir?"

A paused followed which Obi-Wan could only hope was the other taking stock of limbs and body, not because the Chancellor had again lost consciousness.

"Aside from a desperate need to throw up, no, I don't believe that I am, Padawan," finally came out.

Obi-Wan sighed in relief, going so far as to drop his head on the arm clutching the console that was keeping him more or less level. He'd not killed or maimed the Chancellor.

A series of clicks that was the Chancellor disconnecting his seat restraints came next, followed by a loud whump of impact and an even louder exhalation of breath. The craft had been ten or so meters wide, which would have given Valorum a greater than four meter drop. And it rocked momentarily from Valorum's impact. Obi-Wan had to scrabble to keep his hold -- and his silence -- when his chair slipped away from him a little more.

"Never thought I would wish to see that level of lightning again," the words joining the sound of a few cautious steps, as if the other was testing their stability before moving too much. Then, "Are you hurt, Padawan?"

For a moment Obi-Wan debated saying no, but finally decided on the truth without going into specifics. "Nothing life threatening. But the front of the craft had crumpled inward and something's caught under the damaged console."

"Funny, you wouldn't think crashing into a building would cause that," came the rather dry response.

Obi-Wan felt a momentary flash of concern/embarrassment/guilt until he figured out the Chancellor had been joking. Obi-Wan felt awkward offering either an apology or some sort of sarcastic retort himself as he might have to his master. Before he could come up with something else --

"I found someone."

And Obi-Wan found himself holding his breath. The nature of his concern then shifted; whether it was his master or one of the Olmeanians, Obi-Wan was momentarily more jarred by the inappropriateness of it being the Chancellor left to discover the bodies.

"It's our guide. I'm afraid she's dead."

"My master and the pilot should be close to each other," Obi-Wan ground out as he pulled himself further up the console that he might try again to free himself. He didn't mention that he already knew the pilot was also dead -- didn't want to think about what that might mean for his master's injuries since Qui-Gon would have sacrificed himself for the other as a matter of course.

"Here, let me help."

The Chancellor's voice suddenly sounded much closer than Obi-Wan had been expecting. Reacting with surprise would have meant letting go, however, and his survival instincts were too engaged to do something quite that foolish. It was bad enough when the chair jostled under him again.

Even as his moan escaped he felt a hand at his hip, helping steady him. And instantly Valorum's other hand began exploring the crushed console, Obi-Wan's chair, and how his leg was trapped. Although he tried mightily, Obi-Wan couldn't keep further whimpers completely silent as bone grated upon bone, even as cautiously as the Chancellor probed.

"Sorry, Padawan," the Chancellor breathed across Obi-Wan's jaw and neck, the warmth sensitizing Obi-Wan's skin.

He embraced that odd distraction, letting himself feel relief that it was the Chancellor now so close instead of his master. This reaction to the intimacy of their positions had absolutely no bearing on his situation -- or the identity of his companion -- yet all Obi-Wan could think was that he would have been hard pressed not to take advantage of their proximity had Valorum been Qui-Gon.

"I'm afraid your master is somewhere further back in the ship," the other was now saying, while the hand not helping support Obi-Wan moved back to gently squeeze his shoulder. "We'll find him and the pilot once we get you free. And to do that, I'm going to have to move under you. I fear I will also need to move the chair completely away before we can get you freed." Another careful touch somewhere below him, and an unmasked sigh.

"There seems to be something wedged against or into your boot. In your leg too," the Chancellor continued. "And can you hold yourself steady?"

Obi-Wan seriously doubted the later question, but he knew he had little choice but to try as he suspected Valorum was right about the former speculations. Something was causing his blood loss, and although he knew something was also broken, nothing felt crushed. Or protruding from his leg.

"D-do what you must. Just let me release the restraints first.

Another reassuring squeeze before Valorum shifted under Obi-Wan, presenting his shoulder and a portion of his back for Obi-Wan to rest against. With this support Obi-Wan managed to slide out from the strap that had still held him to the chair. He clung to the webbing for a moment before pulling himself further toward the console and away from the chair. Away from the Chancellor.

"Go ahead."

A grunt, then a push, against both him and the chair. Moist from sweat or something worse, Obi-Wan's palms and fingers began to slip. Without thought he reached with his mind to augment his hold, but the Force still eluded him, the ache in his head surging and now overwhelming both motor and mental control. He fell away and something else twisted and tore inside Obi-Wan's leg as his full weight became suspended before Valorum could change his hold. Any scream Obi-Wan might have given into was choked off as consciousness fled.

"Padawan?"

"Qui-Gon!" Finis Valorum didn't bother to disguise his relief in hearing the other awaken. Even in keeping busy caring for Obi-Wan, the unremitting silence and darkness had weighed heavily while he waited for either Jedi to regain consciousness. He'd managed to free Obi-Wan's foot but had refrained from moving the young Jedi. Having no source of light and no clear idea of how extensively Obi-Wan had been hurt, Finis had been afraid of doing more damage. He hadn't even removed the padawan's boot as it was the only thing offering support and pressure against whatever was bleeding.

"F-finis?" Qui-Gon's voice sounded thick but this second question came stronger than the first, both in intent and in proximity.

"I'm up here in the cockpit with Obi-Wan. Guide eDeLyna is dead."

"So is aJonJo." Qui-Gon's slightly slurred tone was full of regret. "My Padawan?"

Although spoken with concern, the question held no fear, leaving Finis to suppose Qui-Gon knew the boy was alive; Obi-Wan had earlier spoken convincingly with regard to Qui-Gon's state, so of course the master could sense the equivalent.

Unless whatever injuries had kept the Jedi Master so long unconscious were also affecting Qui-Gon's Force abilities.

"He's unconscious, but was awake initially before either of us." Finis took a breath then let it out slowly. "Unfortunately we had some trouble getting him freed, so he --"

"And yourself?"

For a moment Finis blinked. He knew Qui-Gon had feelings for his Padawan -- knew they ran deeper than his old friend had admitted even to himself. So why was the other sounding so callous?

"I'm a bit banged up, but nothing broken or even badly bent. But surely --" Finis abruptly broke off and was glad the darkness swallowed his expression of shame. Given how often he relied upon Qui-Gon's dedication to duty and personal loyalty, he should hardly be surprised to see such a suppression of personal concerns. He was the Chancellor, which meant, therefore, he was Qui-Gon's first priority. Not Qui-Gon's padawan.

Which was just wrong.

Suddenly unsure of whether Qui-Gon's slow gait was solely to keep the ship from rocking, Finis worried that he might actually be needed to watch over both Jedi.

"What about yourself? How badly are you hurt?"

There was a definite pause. Finis made sure his exasperated sigh was noisy. "How bad, Qui-Gon?" he asked more sharply. Stoicism was one thing, willful stupidity another.

"I've a concussion and … I'm currently blind."

Finis almost smiled. "Actually, we are all in the dark --" But his words cut off when Qui-Gon activated his lightsaber.

"I assume you can you see this?"

Finis licked his lips. "Yes."

Not bothering to respond with the obvious, Qui-Gon was also not looking at the glowing green beam, nor really at Finis or Obi-Wan either. The Jedi Master still moved unerringly their direction.

"Unless -- until Obi-Wan regains consciousness, I will need your help if I must use it."

That last sounded a little too much like prophecy. Finis quickly gave the face he'd rested in his lap a look over to make sure the ominous first part of Qui-Gon's statement was not valid, however. And gave a faint smile to see color present along with an easing of breaths in young Obi-Wan, until he remembered that Qui-Gon couldn't see either of them. "You already know the ship has landed on its starboard side."

"Which should mean the exterior hatch is now somewhere above me." And the saber was lifted to within inches of the airlock mechanism.

Again Finis started to nod but caught himself. "It is. I was hoping to find a portion of the canopy had cracked and peeled away instead, but …" He shrugged and fell silent. It looked more likely that they would need to find some way to climb and boost each other upward in order to get out. Were either Jedi healthy --

"Nor did I find any emergency supplies although I might well have missed them." He wasn't about to suggest Qui-Gon let him use the saber -- wasn't even sure if he could keep it lit. That was the one thing he had never asked despite one of his most fervent wishes being to hold one once. Rumor had it a Jedi's lightsaber worked only for the one who had crafted it. Given how badly Finis had wanted to be a Jedi at one time, he still wasn't sure if he'd be happy or sad to find out whether he could make one work.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think that our guides had taken this ship out unshielded and empty on purpose."

"I think they … did."

"Welcome back, Padawan." Qui-Gon's voice held all the warmth Finis had missed hearing before.

Still mindful of the ship's precarious position, Qui-Gon crossed the rest of the distance between them before kneeling and powering down his blade, no doubt to ensure he not hold it too close to those he couldn't see. But it had been lit long enough for Finis to see Qui-Gon's face had also held an expression of softness quite unexpected. And to see Obi-Wan's own naked concern for his master's bedraggled appearance.

"An explanation, Padawan?"

Finis felt Qui-Gon brush his fingers across his padawan's cheek and smiled, wondering if such evidence of care would have still been expressed had there still been light for him to witness it.

"Something … aJonJo said when the … lightning first began … Master."

Obi-Wan was struggling to speak even as he was struggling to rise, and Finis was not surprised that his own efforts to assist were taken over by Qui-Gon.

"He said something … about being lucky enough to meet the … s-spirits. At this point I don't … think he meant it metaphorically."

Finis gasped. "You think he purposely steered us into the lightning?" If so, it was a good thing aJonJo was already dead. While maybe he wouldn't have killed the man himself, he didn't want to think what his staff would have done -- would still do -- if this came out, and as truth.

"What aJonJo did or didn't do isn't as important as us getting out of here," Qui-Gon said with a calm Finis was sure he would eventually come to resent -- was already actually jealous of. "Padawan, I will need to use your eyes --"

It was Obi-Wan's turn to gasp. "Master?"

"Don't borrow trouble, Padawan," came back sternly, but with an underlying gentleness to the continuous touches as both men helped steady Obi-Wan, that made Finis wonder why he had ever thought for even a moment that Qui-Gon didn't care deeply about his padawan.

And to also wonder if there was more of a conversation going on than he was privy too. But then a harsh light from outside the cockpit spilled across them, causing Valorum his own momentary blindness. He could feel tension begin to rise in his companions, leading him to believe that this wasn't a rescue party.

In many ways Qui-Gon wished again for darkness. Even with Obi-Wan being supported between he and Finis so the orientation was close, as he focused on their path before them through his padawan's eyes, their height difference was almost as bad as Qui-Gon's head injury in throwing his balance off. It was the same with the strobing lights occasionally flashing across the rough-hewn corridors ahead and behind them. That unyielding intensity was interacting poorly with and exacerbating both of their headaches.

Just as the use of their link itself was doing.

Although he and Obi-Wan had a remarkably close and strong master/padawan bond, this type of interaction would not have been easy even were they more equal in age, training or experience. Using Obi-Wan's eyes to see strained them both mentally, as their injuries were affecting them both physically.

The need to keep moving wasn't helping either, but the skill in which those who hunted them cast their spears had convinced Qui-Gon that any attempt to speak or bargain their way out was not going to work. He wasn't sure the aliens -- a much more primitive, white-furred version of their hosts -- were even truly sentient; the only emotion he could get from them was hunger.

And a single-minded determination to run their prey down.

For a time Qui-Gon had kept them turning left at any opening they crossed so that they might find their way out again of what was rapidly become a maze, but such a pattern might also be recognized or anticipated, and so the last few changes in their path he'd taken simply at random. Seeing through patterns and paths was Obi-Wan's specialty, but his Padawan was having enough trouble just staying conscious, as there had been no time to see to injuries before their difficult escape from their downed ship, and now he could only hold onto the faith that the Force would not lead them astray.

Whether fear for or just because of his responsibilities for the other two, Qui-Gon was having little trouble staying alert, although adrenalin and the Force would ultimately only counter so much. And straight exhaustion would eventually take him to the same state. More than once they'd needed to evade their stalkers. So far there had been no opportunity to rest that they might regain their breath, much less address the depletions they were further subjecting themselves too.

Either there was more than one group trailing them, or these albino Olmeanians had other means to find them though Qui-Gon had found no evidence of them having even rudimentary forms of technology. Scent could be giving them away, or the occasional trails of blood he and Obi-Wan couldn't always prevent or spare the time to clean up.

Half hoping they were traveling in an elaborate circle, that they would eventually return to the chamber they had crashed into, Qui-Gon's ultimate goal was to get them outside where the advantages would return to their favor, even as it meant a return to the fiercesome rainstorm. Certainly they would have much more unlimited space to move within and be able to avoid being herded as this last set of turns was beginning to feel reminiscent of.

"Do you feel that?" Finis suddenly whispered and stopped, but not so abruptly that Obi-Wan might be pulled off balance between them.

Qui-Gon turned his head slowly toward the other man though Obi-Wan took the opportunity to lean further into Qui-Gon. Because his Padawan had tucked his head into Qui-Gon's shoulder, Qui-Gon could see only the darkness of his own robe.

"I'm sure I felt cooler air coming out of the crevice we just passed," Finis continued excitedly. "I'll go check it out."

Qui-Gon should have protested, should have gone himself instead of accepting all of Obi-Wan's weight in his arms now. Were any of their pursuers laying in wait, Finis had only the arm's length of metal he'd pulled from Obi-Wan's leg, whereas the primitives carried three-meter length spears. But after those first minutes of flight, Qui-Gon had to admit he was barely in shape to protect himself, much less the other two. The only way they were going to get out of this was to work together and rely on each other.

"Some Jedi we are."

Qui-Gon's body muffled his words as much as his padawan's exhaustion, but Obi-Wan sounded more alert than Qui-Gon had so far heard since their crash. The Jedi master breathed a sigh of relief and found himself tightening his grip, not so much to further hold him up as to just hold him closer. And although he knew he shouldn't, he lowered his head to kiss at the damp spikes of hair beneath him before resting his chin where he had kissed. Surely just a touch of reassurance -- for them both.

"Actually, Padawan, just being awake and moving is a considerable feat --"

To which Obi-Wan snorted, since the only form of movement either were currently undergoing was a series of sways. Qui-Gon took a step back that he might lean them both against the nearest wall, but still made no move to let go or help Obi-Wan stand on his own.

"You know what I was thinking, Padawan."

"Yes, I do," came in a whisper full of awe and something less identifiable as Obi-Wan moved his head enough for both of them to follow the play of Qui-Gon's hand as it unconsciously moved up and down Obi-Wan's arm. Obi-Wan was then looking up, looking at him, and Qui-Gon found it even more disconcerting seeing the shock on his own face while feeling Obi-Wan's astonishment. And hope?

Qui-Gon watched his own face whiten next, saw the mask he so often presented to the outer world. And felt more than heard Obi-Wan's sigh before his padawan again buried his face against Qui-Gon's chest. But only for an instant. Obi-Wan then stiffened and began shaking his head.

No! Qui-Gon heard directly through all of his senses. You can deny it to others but no longer to yourself. And no longer to me. Shields already thinned so that both could see fell away completely from his padawan's mind. Any guilt or fear Qui-Gon might have still thought to cling to was abruptly overwhelmed by a shining love that illuminated more than one set of shadows and healed a much deeper kind of blindness.

Qui-Gon didn't need to see to find Obi-Wan's lips, to find the comfort and reassurance being offered that indeed his own feelings were reciprocated. He let down all of his own shields even as he gathered up his beloved more closely, responding physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually, offering his own doubts and guilt up to the Force as he offered love and approval to Obi-Wan. Gratitude and resolve.

No more darkness in either of them from past betrayals or regrets, no more denials of what hearts and Force had known from the beginning.

"It's definitely a path with an opening to the outside." Finis was calling back to them, interrupting but not. This was knowledge and realization that could never be taken from them. They parted from the kiss, Obi-Wan sagging for one more moment into Qui-Gon's embrace before gathering himself ready for continuing on.

"We'll have to squeeze through one at a time." If Finis had seen anything as he returned to their side, he was either not surprised, or was even more of a diplomat that Qui-Gon had given him credit for. "I'm not sure how easily the going will be for Obi-Wan given the nature of the terrain. Or how well you're going to fit, Qui-Gon."

Not that Finis was all that much smaller than Qui-Gon in height or size.

"Obi-Wan?" he mouthed against his Padawan's hair before fully releasing him save for the arm crossed under the Chancellor's now as they both moved again to hold Obi-Wan up and help him walk.

"I will manage," came Obi-Wan's vocal response, although the mental one held not only the confidence, but the incentive for doing so that had nothing to do with them hearing a sudden baying that spoke of being found once again. He began carrying more of his own weight as Finis led them quickly to the vent.

"Here," and Finis slipped through first so that he might aid Obi-Wan who gamely moved to follow.

Without needing a discussion they both began firming up their shields and Qui-Gon paused as he pulled his senses back into his own head. Visibility would be nil within the crevice anyway, the going awkward once Obi-Wan found himself free on the other side but before Qui-Gon could join him. Qui-Gon did not pull so far back that Obi-Wan wouldn't still feel his love, that his padawan couldn't draw upon Qui-Gon's own strength when he needed to bolster his flagging body.

A part of Qui-Gon kept attention on their pursuers too, was thus able to sense when the first outrunners caught sight of their prey and avoid the spear rashly thrown. They had run out of time.

Although quite probably they could still escape, Qui-Gon did not think it could be accomplished without killing those who pursued them, for they were smaller than Obi-Wan and already had had little difficulty following. Yet to do so -- if Obi-Wan's interpretation of aJonJo's final moments of rapture had been correct -- would mean killing this world's gods and causing irrevocable harm.

Even now he could feel the Living Force gathering around him. A warning -- a mourning of what was to come no matter that the actuality of these gods would likely prove them as primitive forbearers to the Olmeanians, an evolutionary path stalled when the rest reached for technology and the stars.

Was a world's innocence worth Obi-Wan's life?

Maybe not. But his own was --

No!

A refusal no less adamant than the one that had not let him retreat into denial and regret thundered through Qui-Gon's mind and body as Obi-Wan pleaded for Qui-Gon to find another way. Energy and emotion flooded their link, an outpouring that surrounded Qui-Gon even as it ripped away the Jedi master's hold on the moment within the Living Force and left him adrift within the cold void of the Unifying Force.

Only he wasn't adrift. And it wasn't cold -- or dark. Love anchored and warmed him, the paths of past and future coalescing before him as Time fractured between probability and purpose.

In his arrogance to interpret the Will of the Force, Qui-Gon had forgotten that others might sometimes know it more clearly. Had forgotten that selfless could also mean selfish, that even if his moment was righteous, it wasn't the only moment. And wasn't always right.

He could sacrifice himself to save this world, but what future would he be denying to have his selfless moment? What else - who else -- would he be harming, be potentially sacrificing in addition to himself? When he had been but a master, he had the sole right of choice. Could make that choice for the both of them. But in giving his heart he had been given back his soul. And now they both belonged to the Future.

All that I have and all that I am. All for you.

His thoughts -- Obi-Wan's -- it didn't matter, for they were one together and with the Force. Moment and momentum, unique and unified. Essence. Eternal.

He had always been willing to give up his life for Obi-Wan, why not now his death?

One last shadow fell from Qui-Gon, allowing him to truly see clearly as he had not since the time Xanatos had turned to the Dark. No longer alone or unloved. No longer needing to live solely in the moment because he foresaw no future worth living.

Probability became purpose. Which in turn allowed potential to become power.

A Force illusion first of sound, then of sight. Qui-Gon then slipped away to follow Obi-Wan.