Title: Tales from the Creche 2: The Tale of the ill-fated ride
Author: Epeeblade
Archive: M_A if they want it, anyone else, please ask, I won’t say no. And at my site,
http://www.geocities.com/epeeblade
Rating: PG
Series/Sequel: Yes, to the first Tales: The Tale of the hitch-hiking Jedi
Warnings: None that I can think of.
Categories: Not much humor in this one, maybe “Other”
Spoilers: Takes place pre-TPM
Summary: The Creche master deigns to tell you another tale.
Feedback: Really? Can I have some? Please?
Notes: I wasn’t planning on writing another of these, this bunny just hit me in the face
one night and demanded to be written.
“That wasn’t scary!” you accuse the wrinkled old gnome. You had come from light years
away, just to hear the tales of the diminutive former crèche master. And the last story,
while somewhat sweet and uplifting, did not satisfy your appetite for the dark secrets of
the creche.
“Want another story, you do.” The Creche Master accused. “Get only one, most visitors
do!”
“Please Master?” you ask. Oh, to be the one who left this wretched planet with two
stories from the wise old wizened creche master.
“Mmmm, this one, you like. Frightened, you will be, this time.”
The Tale of the ill-fated ride
**********
Though it had been late when Obi-Wan went to bed, he knew it was later still now. He
couldn’t fathom why he lie awake, while his master snored peacefully beside him.
Truthfully, it had been a trying day, both he and Qui-Gon required to attend the state
funeral of the Queen of Galbaldia. Obi-Wan remembered being so surprised at how
young the Queen had actually been. So close to his own age.
Qui-Gon had understood his unease and had ushered him back to their quarters as soon as
politically possible, which, turned out to not been soon enough. Obi-Wan supposed it was
the Galbadian funeral rites that had grated on him so, the voices of the thousands lifting
in one long mourning song that haunted his sleep even now.
He wasn’t a stranger to death, had seen his share in his 10 years as a Jedi Padawan. Still,
he could not explain his disquiet. Carefully, Obi-Wan slipped out of bed, thinking
perhaps to meditate. Anything to ease his mind.
He moved into the common room of the chamber, found himself drawn to the window by
the odd noise of something scraping. Curious, he pushed open the plasti-glass and poked
his head out the window.
Below, walking along the castle wall, a man dragged a long cylindrical tube behind him.
Obi-Wan recognized it as the sarcophagus the Queen had been placed in earlier. Of
course, it could not be that exact coffin, which he had seen jettisoned out into space
earlier. The man looked up at Obi-Wan, his face pale and cadaverous, deeply lined with
the scars of age. “There’s room for one more!” he rasped and Obi-Wan stepped back,
startled.
“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon called from the bedroom.
“In here.” He called back, stepping back to the window. The strange man was now gone.
Warm, comforting arms surrounded him. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Qui-Gon asked
fuzzily, gently nuzzling the back of his neck.
Obi-Wan leaned back into that touch. “No, Master.”
“Come back to bed. I’ll help you sleep.” The deep voice breathed gently into his ear.
With an offer like that, Obi-Wan could not refuse.
***
The next morning Obi-Wan took his and Qui-Gon’s bags downstairs for their transport.
The spaceport was some distance away, so every half-hour a hover car would stop before
the castle gates then rocket away into the dunes.
Qui-Gon had gone to take leave of their hosts, but sent Obi-Wan to take their place in the
queue. The Jedi weren’t the only guests waiting to leave the castle after the somber
ceremony the day before. In fact, the grounds were quite crowded with visitors and
diplomats, eager to return home.
A car finally arrived, a long, sleek silver construction with tinted windows along the side.
The doors slid open and a slim ramp descended to the earth. Obi-Wan could see a person
standing at the entrance, guiding passengers inside.
He wondered if he could reserve a seat for Qui-Gon, it was almost his turn and his master
still had not arrived, although he could sense him getting closer. Obi-Wan lifted the bags
and moved towards the ramp. He could see inside the transport, the car was filled with
passengers, with some standing in the aisles. Distantly, he could sense Qui-Gon’s arrival
in the courtyard. He turned to ask the Driver if he could reserve a seat when he froze.
The man standing before the hover car door was the exact man he had seen beneath his
window the night before. “There’s room for one more.” The Driver invited.
“No thank you, I will wait for the next one.” Obi-Wan stammered out, backing up a
quickly as he could.
“Padawan?” Qui-Gon inquired as Obi-Wan stumbled against him. “Why didn’t you get
on? We’ll be late for our ship if we wait for the next transport.”
“I have a bad feeling about this one, Master,” Obi-Wan said softly, knowing there was no
other way to explain his odd waking-dream nor the foreboding that dogged him now.
They stood and watched at the hover car lifted off, shaking slightly on its thrusters. The
car lurched forward, stopped, then shot forward again, much too fast for opening speed.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan watched shocked as the transport missed the turn past the dunes
and crashed into the rocky hills.
“Come, padawan,” Qui-Gon was already running, “we must see if we can aide in any
way.”
However, it was too late. Everyone on the transport had been killed instantaneously.
******
“Moral of this story, what is it? Hmmm? Feelings, must listen to. Especially bad ones!
Heh! Heh heh heh!”
End
(
geocities.com/epeeblade)