Snippet 66

Again.

Qui-Gon suppressed a groan and stepped silently through the glistening undergrowth, passing beneath a twisted tree with leaves larger than the span of his arms. Drops of rain slid down his cheeks, losing themselves in his already soaked beard. On one hand, he was thankful for the cool relief of the water on his skin after his trek, but his short experience on this planet had shown him that rain was swiftly followed by stifling humidity and stagnant air.

It had only been several hours since he’d left his ship, and although he was certain the direction he moved in lead closer to Bel-San’s signature, the other Jedi’s presence in the Force seemed to waver, slowly diminishing. Qui-Gon fought back the tendrils of worry that tugged at his mind, releasing his anxieties to the Force. If he kept moving at his current pace, he’d be within several kilometers of Bel-San in the next eight hours. Of course, the sun was low in the sky now, and even his optimistic nature couldn’t help noting the discrepancy.

The rain began to beat harder, its rhythmic tattoo drumming on the surface of the canopy, drenching Qui-Gon to the skin. He reached out through the Force, careful to open his senses to whatever might lie undetected around him. The boundaries between the Upanis and Sentili weren’t clearly defined, and although he was pretty certain of how the Upanis would greet him, he didn’t know what the Sentili would make of his presence on their lands. The rain would also make for some difficulty with his lightsaber; it was one of the few drawbacks to the weapon. He himself had once forgotten this liability after climbing out of the sea, and had been forced to face several angry, rebel Mon Calamari with a shorted-out ‘saber. It had not been one of his finer moments, and Master Yoda had made sure to remind him of that several times since his Knighthood.

Thoughts of his former Master inevitably led to his padawan, and Qui-Gon stopped for a moment, taking refuge beneath the outstretched limbs of a tree that had probably been standing for several thousand years. Tentatively reaching out through their bond, he sensed Obi-Wan’s signature; the boy was quiet, very nearly asleep. For a moment, a brush of understanding passed through their link, and Qui-Gon sent the boy a surge of comfort, just enough to reach him but not enough to wake him.

He knew Obi-Wan missed him terribly; with the connection the boy had with the Force, it was nearly impossible not to feel the nudges of sadness emanating from him, even across the galaxy. Although it pained him somewhat, Qui-Gon put aside his thoughts of his padawan, knowing that Bel-San’s well-being depended on his focus at the task at hand. Perhaps I’m not as good at being alone as I used to be, he thought. After Xanatos, he’d only worked solo missions, which had made him much more self-reliant. Qui-Gon knew there had been times when he hadn’t spoken to any sentient being for weeks at a time. Now, he thought with a wistful half-smile, he was fortunate to get through the night without a conversation with his padawan.

Something slipped quietly through the brush nearby, and Qui-Gon felt his entire body tense for a moment. Instinctually he reached out through the Force, tracking the foreign movement. Whatever it was, it was definitely humanoid. He settled his racing mind, focusing on calm. It was difficult to ascertain whether or not the other being wished him harm, as the emotions that emanated from the being were somewhat scattered. One moment he felt its fear, the next a fleeting pass of bravery.

Qui-Gon recalled some of Bel-San’s comments about the Sentili before he had left, remembering how they used handmade weapons, usually arrows or darts. Although lower- tech weaponry tended to inflict less damage than the more accurate blasters, he moved forward cautiously; he knew a well-placed poisoned dart would be more difficult to see in the rainstorm than the bolt of a blaster. Hoping to dissuade the other from any sort of attack, Qui-Gon sent out a calming wave through the Force, reaching out to the other’s mind. Payter and Mace always snubbed his use of the Force for mind manipulation, but since an early age, Qui-Gon had an expert’s touch.

The branches to Qui-Gon’s left suddenly parted, and a honey-colored face peered out at him, its expression bewildered.

“Sani?”

A young man stepped warily from the undergrowth to where Qui-Gon stood, his head cocked as his dark eyes scrutinized Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon had no idea how old he was, since he barely came up to Qui-Gon’s elbow. He held a loaded bow in both hands, wore a strip of animal hide around his waist, and blue tattoos ringed both of his upper arms. His black hair, sleek from the rain, lay close to his scalp, dripping onto his bare shoulders.

“Sani? Ne Sani?”

Qui-Gon pressed his lips together, summoning up one of the few words he knew in the Sentili language. He cursed himself for not paying more attention to Bel-San’s ramblings; who knew his friend’s diatribe on the need for Jedi to learn more languages would prove itself so pointedly? He knew Bel-San would have some choice phrases for him once he found him. “Yuri,” he said, hoping his inflection made him sound amiable.

“Yuri,” the other said, dropping his bow as he saw Qui-Gon’s lightsaber dangling from his belt. “Iju Sani veresu.”

Holding his breath for a moment, Qui-Gon released it in a sigh. He had tried to find any scraps of information regarding the Sentili language through the Temple Archives, but Bel-San had actually done more work in translating their dialect than any scholar had before, and of course his friend had brought his research with him. “I am Qui-Gon Jinn,” he said slowly, and loudly as he dared. “Are you Sentili?”

“Qui kiji?” the boy shook his head, obviously confused. He began speaking quickly, and Qui-Gon felt his hopes dwindle slightly.

“Sentili! Are you,”--he pointed at the other-- “Sentili? From the Sentili tribe?” Muttering under his breath, the boy wiped the rain from his forehead, making a clicking sound deep in his throat.

Qui-Gon held up a hand, starting again, speaking clearly and loudly. “Bel-San. I am looking for Bel-San Jacoba. He is a Jedi Knight. Have you seen him?”

The other held his hands over his ears, shaking his head at Qui-Gon. “Jedi, you. . .talk too loud.”

“You speak Basic?” Qui-Gon asked, taken aback.

“Baa-sek?” The other shrugged. “Sani teach. He teach Seph a different way to talk.” He gave Qui-Gon a smile. “I speak the best. I learn the best.”

“Your name is Seph?”

“Seph.” The other pointed at himself, nodding. “You are Qui-Gon, yes?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon said, unable to remove the relief from his tone before he spoke.

“You are Jedi too?” Seph eyed his lightsaber, a slight smile curving his lips. “Sani has lightning stick like yours. But you are tall. Taller than Sani. I think all Jedi are like Seph and Sani, but you are tall.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head slightly at the smaller man. “You know Bel- San?”

Seph nodded again, looking down. “Sani is not here.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Pursing his lips, the other man shrugged. “Not here.”

“Did someone else. . .maybe the Upanis. . .take him away?”

Making a fist with one hand, Seph growled beneath his breath. “Upanis attack. They hurt the Temples. They kill bowmen, women, children. They have,” he gestured with his hands, clearly searching for words to help Qui-Gon understand. “Small bows, but they shoot light.”

“Blasters,” Qui-Gon said quietly. It chilled him to think of Seph’s people fighting against higher caliber weapons with their spears and darts. There were fewer and fewer parts of the galaxy that managed to stay mostly technology-free, and the ones that did had to continually contend with their more adapted neighbors.

He tried again, hoping Seph might know Bel-San’s whereabouts. “I need to find Bel-San. Did he get taken away from here? By someone else?”

Seph paused before he spoke, and then began to nod. “Sani. Upanis took him when they go. They kill my people, but not Sani.”

“Can you tell me where the Upanis are now?”

“Yes. They have a. . .big house. They build on our land, but it is not theirs. Maybe half a day walk.” Seph looked at him, pointing at the sky, which had moved from an angry gray to a diminishing pink color. “Dark is coming. Seph show you my people. You help, yes?”

Qui-Gon took in a breath, unsure how to answer. “I must find Bel-San soon. But we can go to your people first.”

Seph nodded, taking a step into the brush. “It is good for us you have come.”

Following the slender, small figure, he hoped he would prove Seph’s words true.

***

Awareness came to him more slowly now, and more painfully. Taking in the shallowest of breaths, Bel-San lay on the duracrete floor of his cell, curled on his side, his hands bound behind his back in stun cuffs. Still wearing the Sentili leather hide around his waist, he felt the chill of the floor keenly along his bare torso. He started to shiver, but he forced his body to stop, ordering it to a state of calm.

Bel-San didn’t remember much of what had happened to him in this place, but his internal sense of time assured him he’d been there for at least ten. The Upanis had taken him after the assault on the Senitli Temples, pelting him with stun bolts until he lapsed into unconsciousness. What had happened after that he wasn’t sure of, but he had been placed in a duracrete-walled chamber, kept in near-darkness. The lights above were maddening; the hololamps flickered as if about to burn out, but they continued producing their small amount of lessening light. It was just enough for him to see the dark outline of the shield- proofed doors that kept him inside.

He hadn’t had many encounters with the Upanis before their attack, but he had learned a decent bit since his capture. There were few cultures in the galaxy who didn’t at least respect the Jedi, and quite a few that hated them outright, but the Upanis clearly feared the Jedi nearly as much as they feared their death-god. And the Jedi, unlike their death-god Giia, could be contained.

For a people with a relatively new awareness of higher technology, the Upanis had made the most of their recently acquired tech. Whomever had been introducing them to more state-of-the-art weaponry had done well for them, as they had blasters, transparisteel shields, and even some larger ballistics. And, Bel-San thought with a grimace, the Upanis had stun cuffs and chargers at their disposal, both of which kept him nearly immobile.

There were times Bel-San wished he had never spent any time learning the Healing arts, because despite the fact it sometimes helped those under his care, it also gave him knowledge of his own failing condition. Each time he had awakened, he’d taken stock of himself, and after the past five days, he knew his body was deteriorating. The Upanis kept him drugged, and they’d placed a charger around his chest. The metal coil had an internal computer that monitored his pulse and respiration, and if they rose to a certain level, the charger released potent, excruciating shocks that sent him back into unconsciousness. Between the debilitating drugs and the charger’s shocks, he had spent most of the past ten days in an oblivion of pain and darkness.

He closed his eyes, keenly aware of his own exhaustion. It was somewhat paradoxical, he thought bitterly, that he could feel tired at all, considering he hadn’t been able to so much as stand up for more than a week. But the shocks from the charger were beginning to wear on him; he knew that each successive charge was weakening his heart. Sometimes it rocketed into palpitations, and he had to fight to get control of its wild beating before it set off the charger. The Upanis hadn’t given him water for at least a day, and they had given him no food since his arrival. At least, he thought, the drugs make me so sick that I don’t even miss food. What little he’d had in his stomach has long since purged itself.

The Force felt like a spirit hovering above him, watching him with some sort of passive pity, unable to aid him. The effort it cost to even call the slightest bit of Force energy to him usually set off the charger, and after being shocked into unconsciousness repeatedly, he’d stopped trying. Even if he was able to call on the Force, he was now so weak that he wouldn’t be able to escape on his own anyway. Still, he felt the profound need to connect with the Force, and it pained him mentally to be unable to touch its essence. At least that would comfort him, bring momentary relief to his depleted self.

Several days ago, something had reached out to him from far away, but thinking it was a mental assault from his captors, Bel-San had brought up the most powerful block he could, warding off the invader. It was only later, after he’d woken again from his stupor, that he sensed the lingering signature trace of Qui-Gon still imprinted on his mind. He was unable to reach out through the Force to identify if his friend was near, but he hoped that was so. Part of him still defied any need of assistance--he found it frustrating that he required any help from his childhood friends, who had long been able to get by on their own--but as he lay helpless, wracked with spasms from too many drugs in his system, he wanted nothing more than to see the face of another Jedi.

***

Sitting beside Seph on a fallen limb, surrounded by chattering members of the Sentili tribe, Qui-Gon could easily imagine his friend inhabiting this world. Although he could see the weariness on their faces and sensed the quaking anger within them from the injustice done to their tribe, the children still tussled on the rain-soaked ground, smiling at their parents.

“You eat with us?” Seph asked, passing Qui-Gon a leaf larger than his own hand, offering him a mixture of cold vegetables and sticky sap.

The other man clearly wanted Qui-Gon to join them, and he thanked Seph, taking the leaf and nibbling the food off his fingers. He truly wasn’t hungry; inwardly he felt himself balking during the trip towards the makeshift Sentili camp, although he knew it was important to gain as many facts as possible before charging into the place where Bel-San was imprisoned. From what Seph had explained, it seemed that Bel-San had tried to protect the tribe, but the Upanis had overwhelmed him and taken him prisoner. It wasn’t clear yet why the Upanis hadn’t killed Bel-San outright, but Qui-Gon was thankful they hadn’t.

Looking around, Qui-Gon saw the faces of many women and children, but few men joined them around the low-banked fire. “Where are your. . .bowmen?” he asked softly, unsure of how much the others could understand.

Seph sighed, wiping at his mouth with his wrist. “Some are around the camp, hidden from sight. They protect us. Others die. Lightning bows kill them.” Seph looked at Qui-Gon’s lightsaber again, pausing. “Sani use his stick to hit the light-arrows. You can do that?”

Qui-Gon nodded, suddenly feeling the enormity of the task before him. There were times he even wished for Mace’s presence on this mission, despite the other Jedi’s insufferable pragmatism. At least Mace would have been able to bring his perceptions of the Unifying Force, which eluded Qui-Gon most of the time. At present, the Sentili were enjoying a decent meal and each other’s company, but they would soon face extinction, and Qui-Gon saw few means of improving their situation.

“You are. . .worry,” Seph said uncertainly, scrunching his face as he searched for the right word. “Upset?”

Qui-Gon nodded slightly. “Maybe some of both.”

“For Sani?”

“Yes. I’m worried that I might not be able to get to him.” Qui-Gon looked away, surprised at himself for his candor with someone he barely knew. Perhaps there was something in the dire situation of Seph’s people that made him feel a connection to the tribesman.

“Seph also.. .I also worry for Sani, and look for him in past days. I find the house, but too many people around outside to get in.”

Although he was loathe to get Seph involved, Qui-Gon knew he would need the other man’s knowledge. “Can you show me? Maybe you and I can find a way inside.”

Seph nodded. “I will lend my bow to you.” Qui-Gon frowned for a moment, and Seph saw his confusion. “How my people say help.”

Qui-Gon looked up at the dark sky, feeling the first drops of rain strike his already damp skin. “It’s going to rain again.”

“That is good. Rain will shield us from danger.” Seph closed his eyes for a moment, lifting his arms towards the sky. “Sani need rain. We will be rain for Sani.”

Moving to his feet, Qui-Gon gave him the briefest of smiles. “Before the moon starts to set, we should leave. Do you think so?”

“I can show you in the dark. I have owl eyes.” Seph laid back on the limb, looking strangely comfortable on the rough bark. “I will wake you. Rest. We need strength to trick the Upanis.”

Qui-Gon found a somewhat dry patch of ground beneath a towering tree, and he sat beneath the spread of its giant fronds. Breathing slowly through his mouth, he could feel the constant flow of life swirling around him, passing through the Force. Ignoring the feel of tiny insect wings against his cheeks, he closed his eyes, dropping into meditation. After several minutes of grounding himself to the land beneath him, he tentatively sought along the bond he shared with Bel-San, hoping to reach the other Jedi’s mind.

No block knocked him immediately aside, as had happened before, but he couldn’t get any reading of Bel-San’s condition. He had access to Bel-San’s consciousness, but it didn’t seem like his friend was even there, almost like an empty home.

Then, without warning, he was there.

:You’re. . .here.:

Qui-Gon forced himself to remain calm, not wanting to disturb the already tenuous link. :I’m nearby. Are you all right?:

The link shook slightly, like a spider’s web in a strong breeze. :Not good.: Qui- Gon felt along their bond, wincing on Bel-San’s behalf as he got a slight wave of the pain the other Jedi was feeling.

:You’re drugged?:

:Yes. A charger, too.:

Cursing inwardly, Qui-Gon took a breath to calm himself. Chargers were outlawed in many systems because they were considered cruel, not to mention they often caused death if the calibrations weren’t set exactly. :I found Seph. We’re coming to get you tonight.:

:Careful.: Bel-San’s presence wavered somewhat, then steadied itself. :I’m underground. Near water. That’s all I know.:

:Hold on. We’ll be there very soon.: Qui-Gon tried to send Bel-San a wave of calming Force, but it was as if he’d sent it into the open sky, dissipating before it even reached the other man.

:They. . .you need to. . .: Bel-San struggled to speak, and then began to fade, his consciousness ebbing. :Hurry.:

TBC