Title: All Alone In The Night
Author: Seven
Rating: PG, maybe bordering on PG-13 for violence
Notes: Character suffering, pure'n'simple. It was originally a Trek story, but I decided that it fitted SW better. It was one of my early stories, so... it's not so good.
Summary of this part: When staying temporarily on an alien planet without Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon is attacked by rebels.
Disclaimer: I am making no money off it. So put down the machetes!
*******
Several armed guards burst into Qui-Gon's spartan hotel room. They were all Thalons, winged, tall and pale. The Jedi sat upright on his blanketless cot, clad only in a pair of leggings, blinking at them. "What the... what are you doing here?" he said, getting to his feet.
ZAP! The lead guard swung a high-power force pike at him, catching him in the chest. Qui-Gon fell against the wall with the electric shock, gasping for air and holding onto his chest. He was only able to see the gray-clad legs of the guard passing by him, and a high-pitched chuckle. "A lightsaber. So, we HAVE found the Jedi." A hand grasped Qui-Gon by his long chestnut hair and pulled his head up, for the shattering view of the leader clipping the lightsaber to his belt.
Four rough hands grabbed him and yanked him forward, almost off his feet. "Move, scum!" the one to his left hissed. "Extra commendations for taking you to the camps!"
"Sorry... to disappoint you," Qui-Gon choked, sucking in a breath. "But... I'm not going to any... camp!"
The guard sniggered. "You wish, Jedi." He yanked Qui-Gon sideways, out into the street, broken-up and burned. Qui-Gon's vision was blurry; the twelve guards surrounding him were no more than pillars of gray and beige and white. "Without your laser sword, you are NOTHING."
Qui-Gon only smiled a little lopsidedly. He still had the Force.
He fought through the pinkish haze that clouded his vision and his mind, made it virtually impossible to think. He focused on all twelve guards, on the blasters on their belts...
Twelve simultaneous blaster bolts, slashing burning paths down the guards legs. They screamed, clutching at themselves. Qui-Gon threw his arms out, calling his lightsaber from the lead guard's belt to his hand. As it hummed to life, his mind seemed to clear someone.
"BLAST HIM!" the leader shrieked in agony.
Qui-Gon leaped from the street to an awning, feeling the strong material begin to rip under his weight. Gathering the Force around him like a robe, he hurled himself from the awning to the flat rooftop, the blaster bolts hammering only inches from his ascending legs.
He landed in an exhausted heap, on his stomach. He could hear the guards screaming down below him... and knew that he had to keep moving. He deactivated his lightsaber and crawled across the rooftop on his hands and knees, still dazed. The cold winds blew across his bare chest and back, making him shiver and try to move faster. The tiles bit into his bare feet, making the going slower and more treacherous.
Finally he reached somewhere where the shouting was quieter. And the shouting seemed to be ever-present... someone was screaming wherever he went.
He continued on his rooftop trekking until he reached his hotel. He swung down from one balcony to another, feeling the skin slowly scrape from his fingertips. As he swung into his room, he came face to face with another guard.
It can't be easy, he thought with a mental sigh.
He swung out with his lightsaber and struck down the guard before the Thalon could fire his blaster. Shaking with spent adrenaline and the accumulated trauma of the morning's activities, he went to the closet and yanked it open. He slipped on his shirt, boots, and Jedi robe, quickly tying the sash.
A military coup. It was the only thing that he could think of. The military was taking over the planet... for what reasons, he didn't know. And it sounded like they wanted HIM dead in particular.
The clatter of boots alerted Qui-Gon to more soldiers. He slipped out the window and onto the ledge near the balcony, then hopped down to the street, on top of a smoking grate.
He didn't know where the grate would lead to, but it had to be safer than the streets. I wish Obi-Wan were here, he thought morosely.
It was a small planet. Insignificant. Qui-Gon didn't even know what was going on, fully.
He had been roaming the sewers for hours, gasping at the stench. The stone walls were dripping with slime and putrid matter. His lightsaber was held in front of him, but the green beam let out only a faint glow that allowed him to see a few feet in front of him.
He stopped at a dead end, and pulled a fold of his robe across his mouth and nose, breathing shallowly. He couldn't walk quickly; the floor was too uneven and slippery. And though he couldn't see himself clearly in the glow of his lightsaber, he suspected that he was coated in the same slime as the passage was.
I feel sick, he thought miserably.
The effects of the force pike were slowly wearing off, pulling away the haze that had shrouded his mind for the past few hours. He began to recap, to try and figure out a way off this paradise-turned-hellhole.
Two days ago, his transport's hyperdrive had broken down near the planet Thalon, on the way from Malastare to Coruscant. He had thought, at the time, that there were worse places to be stranded for a week. The Thalon were cultured and intelligent avians, with a civilization full of art and beauty.
Qui-Gon had spent those two days touring their museums and opulent palaces, admiring the work of centuries of Thalon artisans. He had noticed the gray-suited military officials that were following him, but they changed so often he had concluded that they were just curious.
The Thalon people themselves were the guide that he went by in determining their position. They seemed happy, well-adjusted.
Face it, Qui-Gon thought. You got SLOPPY.
Obi-Wan had been standing on the huge, levitating landing pad for Qui-Gon's transport for almost four hours. His leg still tingled, reminding him of the reason he hadn't been able to come on this mission.
Beside him, Master Yoda had been quietly watching the transports snake by the platform to their destinations. Obi-Wan kept his eyes fixed on Coruscant's pale sky, partially to overcome the faint acrophobia that twisted him every time he looked down. Partly because Qui-Gon was supposed to have arrived almost half a day ago.
Yoda looked at Obi-Wan with huge shiny eyes. Obi-Wan knew that the tiny Jedi Master was looking at him, but he pretended not to notice. "Worried you are?"
"Yes, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan said quietly.
For a moment, he thought that Yoda was going to reprimand him. "So am I," Yoda said with equal quietness. "Beyond overdue his transport is."
The tiny Jedi turned around and walked with surprising quickness to the sleek Jedi shuttle docked at the end of it. For a moment, Obi-Wan cast a single, hopeful glance at the sky, then followed him.
A faint glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, gleaming like Qui-Gon's hopes. The Jedi felt like his throat was bleeding as he climbed up the narrow tunnel, his big frame barely fitting. The sudden, nightmarish fear that he was going to get stuck in this slimy sewer hole flipped into Qui-Gon's mind.
His robes were a wreck, beyond repair, he had greenish slime in his eyes, coating his face and hair. He wasn't certain what he was going to do when he got onto the streets again. Thalon was on the very edge of the Republic... it would take several days for news of this coup to reach Coruscant. Several more for ships to arrive.
Now his legs were pressed together, only barely able to twitch his arms as he scraped his way, inch by painful inch, toward the street grate that had become the main focus of his life. His hands were shaking as he scrabbled for a handhold...
A waft of fresh air reached his nostrils. Qui-Gon breathed deeply, started to pull himself further up the shaft...
And stopped. Thalon soldiers were standing outside the grate, rasping at each other. Qui-Gon sucked in a breath and started to push himself back--then stopped as a jab of pain hit his ribs. He was stuck.
After a moment of hyperventilation, Qui-Gon found that he could ease forward--just not backward. Well, he'd just have to pray that no one looked too closely at the grate.
He felt a bit like a man being digested, coated with slime and wedged in the small round space. At least, he thought with a faint glint of humor, he could breathe normally.
Several booted feet entered his field of vision. One Thalon stood apart from the others--he could only assume that he was the commandant.
"Where is the Jedi?"
Silence. Qui-Gon's breathing sounded thunderous to his ears.
"SPEAK!"
"He has... vanished, sir. He somehow defeated our unit and escaped onto a rooftop."
Silence. Qui-Gon strained to hear, hoping that they hadn't tracked him into the sewers. It would be fairly difficult to escape if he were stuck in this shaft.
"Incompetants!"
Blaster fire. Qui-Gon winced as one of the officers dropped, a hole burned through his chest and folded wings.
"Commander!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Find the Jedi, now. And try to take him alive. General Tathor has plans for this man, this... Qui-Gon Jinn."
Well, this was certainly interesting. Qui-Gon knew of no "General Tathor" and had no idea why this man would want him alive... or have plans for him. The commandant said the words with no especial malice or relish, but they sent a chill down Qui-Gon's spine just the same.
The commandant barked out another order in his native tongue that Qui-Gon did not understand. His heart sank as all the soldiers left... except two. They stood at attention beside the grate where Qui-Gon was hidden, standing like sentries. So they might as well be, Qui-Gon thought morosely. To go forward would mean his death.
Qui-Gon fought through his growing despair. He trusted the Force.
Obi-Wan leaned close over the panel that blinked madly, carefully leaning on his left leg. Next to him was the comm droid, long spidery limbs outstretched and moving across the panels. "There are only six planets within range, sir," the droid intoned in a deep voice. "Shall I attempt to hail them all?"
Obi-Wan winced a little and nodded. "Government officials should know if Qui-Gon is there."
He was careful to keep his voice neutral. He was getting more and more nervous--not just because Qui-Gon was missing, but because no sign of the transport had been found. A part of Obi-Wan was screaming with frustration and guilt, guilt that he hadn't been with Qui-Gon. If he hadn't been so stupid during that sparring round...
The droid tilted its head and focused on Obi-Wan's odd stance. "Excuse me, sir. Are you in pain?"
Obi-Wan shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "I took a bad step on a Temple training platform and broke my leg...in several places. It's healing, but I wasn't able to come on this mission."
The droid analyzed this and apparently decided not to push the matter. Its eyes glowed briefly. "Five of the planets in question have responded to the hail. The sixth, Thalon, has not responded, and no outgoing traffic is detected."
"Sounds suspicious," Obi-Wan said, limping to the door. "Thank you for your help."
The young Jedi exited the room, enveloped in a cloud of gloom. The droid said nothing in reply, then turned back to his work.
Outside the comm room, Obi-Wan sighed and sagged against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. But the tiny frenzied voices that had been screaming at him continued, kept screaming onward. A neverending chorus that told him to find Qui-Gon as soon as possible. They cried to him to go to Thalon. Qui-Gon was there, Obi-Wan knew it.
A poke in the knee brought Obi-Wan back to reality. He looked down to see Master Yoda holding up his cane. "News have you?" the Jedi Master asked, his eyes keen.
Obi-Wan awkwardly dropped to one knee so he could look Yoda right in the face. "Yes, Master Yoda. There are only six planets within range--and Thalon is not responding to hails. I think..." He stopped, swallowed, and tried again. "I believe that Master Qui-Gon is on Thalon."
Yoda frowned a little. "Go there you must."
Obi-Wan nodded, ignoring the shooting pains from his newly-healed leg. The voices that cried to him to find his Master and his friend were louder.
After three hours of lying in the chute, Qui-Gon was developing a screaming case of claustrophobia. His entire body shook with the effort of not shrieking in fear and frustration, of the mad impulse to flail around, to search for some open space. He knew that if he so much as whimpered, his life would end at the business end of a blaster rifle. So he kept silent, quivering in the sodden, stinking dark.
The soldiers showed no inclination to leave, and Qui-Gon was too tired to do anything like the mind-trick, let alone on two people. He had tried several times, even on only one of them. The result was always the same--the soldiers shrugged the commands off like mosquitoes.
Slowly, he tapped into the Force and managed to calm himself. The quivering stopped, but the impulse to move remained. Qui-Gon rested his cheek on the slimy chute floor, too numbed by his experiences to recoil at the putrid stench. It wouldn't be much longer before he couldn't stand it anymore, before he let out some telltale cry.
Better to get this over with.
Qui-Gon took a deep breath, braced his arms against the uneven chute walls, and gathered the Force around him. The lined grate approached with dizzying speed as he shot forward, knocking the grate from its resting place and hurtling him onto the street. The soldiers Qui-Gon lay on his stomach for half a second, gasping once before pushing himself onto his knees and yanking the lightsaber from his belt. The soldiers aimed their blasters, only to have the barrels neatly lopped off by a bar of green light. The remaining pieces of their weapons sparked and died, useless.
The guards stared in astonishment as Qui-Gon slowly got to his feet, aiming his lightsaber at them, ready to arc it through their chests if they moved. "Run," Qui-Gon rasped. "Run, and keep on running."
The soldier continued to gape at the angry Jedi, as if uncertain as to his motives. They stared at each other--why is he letting us go? Is he going to kill us?
"GO NOW!" Qui-Gon growled. His lightsaber began to buzz alarmingly. The guards turned and ran down the narrow street, never looking back. Their wings spread, like huge mutant butterflies, and launched them into the air. In a few minutes, Qui-Gon Jinn stood alone in the spacious street lined with regal towers.
With a weary groan, he deactivated his lightsaber and stretched his cramped muscles. Walking into a narrow--but thankfully clean--alley, he sat down and surveyed himself with a wry chuckle. His robe was a wreck, coated with greenish slime, and he suspected that his hair and face looked much the same. As he pulled the sodden robe off, he found that his leggings and shirt were mostly unscathed. Time to count my blessings, he thought.
He used a semi-clean corner of his robe to wipe the slime from his eyes and cheeks. He had no idea how to deal with the sludge in his hair, or deal with the stench clinging to his body.
Perhaps I can take a dip in a river, he thought. The way I am right now, they could home in on me just by SMELLING me!
Five minutes later, a somewhat cleaner Qui-Gon walked down the broken-up street, glancing at the buildings to the sides of it. Normally, the graceful arches and minarets were laced with a glorious mosaic of jewels and precious metals, but many of them had been stripped away--probably by soldiers given free reign over the city.
He hadn't, he realized, seen a single Thalon who wasn't a soldier. The civilians, he thought, had probably been shipped off to the camps that one of the soldiers had mentioned before.
What was this General Tathor planning? He put everyone in camps and tried to capture a Jedi. Qui-Gon could see no logic in the man's plans whatsoever.
He wished that Obi-Wan were there. Obi-Wan's enthusiasm and intelligence not only heartened Qui-Gon, he functioned better when he had someone to bounce ideas off. But the boy had been injured in a sparring match and had to stay on Coruscant during the mission to Malastare.
Qui-Gon's lips quirked into a tiny smile as he remembered Obi-Wan's frustration at being left behind. He had lain there on a medical table as a healer tended to his battered leg. "Master, I can't just stay here!" he had protested. "It's not serious."
"It's serious enough," Qui-Gon had replied. He had put a large hand reassuringly on the boy's shoulder. "It's just a simple dispute among the governers on Malastare. Nothing exciting or unusual. I'll be back in a week." Obi-Wan had tried to accept it, but it was clearly hard for him to just be dropped from a mission like that.
A flash seemed to zip through the Force--Obi-Wan! Qui-Gon eagerly grasped at the flicker of his apprentice's presence... and found nothing. His hope was sliced apart by the sudden despair as he realized that he was just deluding himself into thinking that Obi-Wan might be there. Even if he weren't recovering, Qui-Gon wasn't yet overdue... was he? Could all of this really have happened in only one day?
Qui-Gon interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles. After the hours of running through the cramped sewers and swinging down balconies, his back was beginning to ache. But for the first time all day, Qui-Gon was beginning to feel that matters might improve.
BLAM!
The pavement only inches from his boot exploded. Qui-Gon broke into a sprint, kicking himself mentally for letting his guard down. His lightsaber was in his hand and ignited, deflecting one beam after another.
All except one.
The beam hammered into Qui-Gon's back, sending a chilling numbness from the point of impact, radiating outwards. The lightsaber dropped from his fingers as he fell to his knees, a look of surprise on his face. He fought the effects of the blaster fire, tried to hang onto consciousness. But a dark tunnel was rapidly enveloping his vision, and a deafening roar filled his ears.
He couldn't feel his arms or legs. His heart pounded like a drum, the only thing he heard clearly and loudly.
"Shoot him again."
Another blast. Qui-Gon drifted out of consciousness and dropped to the ground...
TBC
This was posted on April 21, 2001.
© 2001 heather.lively@ns.sympatico.ca
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