DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
N.B. Thoughts indicated by // and Italics
“Obi-Wan.” It was his Master’s voice. The Padawan stirred slightly. He was called again, louder this time. He twitched as his conscious self took over.
“Mmph,” said Obi-Wan, groggily dragging himself into a sitting position. “What time is it?’
“Nearly ten o’clock,” answered Qui-Gon serenely.
“Ten o’clock!” shouted Obi-Wan, suddenly awake. “Why didn’t you wake me?” He was on his feet now, searching through the mess of his quarters for his Jedi robes. //Qui-Gon is right,// he thought. //I should clean up in here.//
Qui-Gon apparently picked up this thought. “You know, Obi-Wan,” he said conversationally, but with a hint of good-natured mockery in his voice, “It’s amazing that you can make such a mess with only a Jedi’s possessions.”
Obi-Wan shot him a scathing glance as he buckled his belt and began rummaging around for his lightsaber. Qui-Gon offered it from behind his back.
“I nearly stepped on it coming in,” he said severely. “Obi-Wan, I am not pleased.”
Obi-Wan bowed humbly. “I’m sorry, Master,” he said, and to his own surprise, he really meant it.
Qui-Gon nodded in acknowledgment, then handed Obi-Wan his lightsaber. The Padawan clipped it meekly to his belt and began hunting down his boots. Qui-Gon sighed.
“Where are we going, Master?” asked Obi-Wan, nearly trotting in order to keep up with Qui-Gon’s long, purposeful strides. They were in a more remote corner of the Jedi Temple, where the architecture was older and the walls slightly dusty. The halls bore the odors of old paint and stale air. Clearly it was not traveled often.
“Master Windu has another assignment for us,” answered Qui-Gon.
“Why does that involve coming here?”
Qui-Gon slowed and stopped, turning his intense stare on his Apprentice. “Stretch out with the Force, Padawan,” he said. “What do you see?”
Obi-Wan obediently closed his eyes and let the familiar energy of the Force flow through his being. Slowly he reached outwards with it. He felt Qui-Gon there, a reassuring strength. He could feel the corridor around him in perfect detail, every nuance of the wood and stone. Stretching further, he found his senses drawn to a small hangar branching out from the central hallway. He felt a small ship--old, but still in good order. The engines had already been powered up. And there by the loading ramp another familiar Jedi presence--Mace Windu.
Obi-Wan pulled back into himself and stared quizzically up at his Master, trying to pick up his thoughts. Qui-Gon smiled.
“Master Windu is sending us to the Callodas System. We’re using this hangar to avoid attracting attention.”
Obi-Wan started to ask why this was necessary, but Qui-Gon cut him off.
“This is a very important part of your training, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon. “We are to go and negotiate peace on Callodas Three. Master Windu and Master Yoda are the only ones who know of our mission there.” So there would be no one save those two to find them if they never came back. It was unsaid, but Obi-Wan could sense it under his Master’s words.
“But why, Master?” asked Obi-Wan, still puzzled.
“This mission is a test of our bond, Padawan,” answered Qui-Gon. “We will undoubtedly encounter many obstacles, but if the Force is strong enough between us, we will succeed.”
Something had been nagging at Obi-Wan. Something about the name Callodas Three... then it hit him.
“But Master!” he cried, “Callodas Three is in the middle of a civil war! We’ll be shot down before we even enter the atmosphere! And even if we survive that, there’s a communications block around the entire planet!”
Qui-Gon nodded, slowly, then resumed walking towards the hangar. Obi-Wan was shocked. He’d never known Qui-Gon to walk so rashly into obvious danger. For a brief moment he considered trying to take his Master by the arm and drag him back to the safety of the Jedi Academy, but he knew he would never succeed; not only was Qui-Gon physically much stronger than he, but his control of the Force was remarkable, even for a Jedi. No, that was a battle Obi-Wan could not win.
Besides, Qui-Gon had said that there was at least a chance of survival, and if Qui-Gon said so, Obi-Wan would believe it. At least, that was what Obi-Wan’s brain told him. There was still that lingering feeling in his gut that even Qui-Gon Jinn could be wrong.
Obi-Wan tightened his jaw. Whether Qui-Gon was right or wrong, he was the Master. //Where a Master goes, his Padawan follows,// he told himself. //And if I must die,// he thought, //I could think of no one I’d rather die beside.// This thought made him feel very brave and noble, but even as he resolutely followed his Master to the hangar, Obi-Wan fervently hoped the notion would not have a chance to test itself.
Mace Windu met them by the ship, looking a little grim. “Welcome, Master Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan,” he said, bowing to them each in turn. As Obi-Wan returned the bow he felt a deep sense of unease growing over him. Master Windu handed Qui-Gon a data pad.
“Here are the coordinates of the landing platform you’re to arrive on,” he said briskly. “The representatives of the Central Government will meet you there. Don’t worry,” he added, casting a meaningful glance at Obi-Wan, “they’re expecting you and will let you land.” He patted them each reassuringly on the shoulder. “May the Force be with you,” he said, then Mace Windu turned and strode calmly out of the hangar, never looking back. Obi-Wan gazed after him with admiration. He didn’t see how Master Windu could be so calm sending one of his best friends along with a 15-year-old child on so dangerous a mission.
Qui-Gon interrupted his musing. “Let’s get aboard, Padawan,” he said briskly, but Obi-Wan sensed worry underneath the briskness. //Well,// he thought, //at least I’m not the only one with doubts about this mission.//
He quietly sat in the co-pilot’s seat, watching his Master program in the coordinates and raise the ship gently into the air. Soon the stars were flying past as the ship accelerated, and then the darkness was replaced by the beautiful shifting patterns of hyperspace.
“Master,” said Obi-Wan after a long pause. Qui-Gon made no visible movement, but Obi-Wan knew he had been heard. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”
Qui-Gon turned slowly to face his Padawan. “Do you feel you’re not up to this?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t a challenge.
“No, I feel up to it, but I...” Obi-Wan paused. It was hard to put his feelings into words. “I think that these negotiations will not go easily for either of us. I sense... pain. And fear. Whose, I don’t know, but...” he stopped again. It was useless trying to tell Qui-Gon how much his instincts were screaming at him to turn away, to go back, to do anything but go to Callodas Three. “Just... let’s please be careful, Master,” he finished lamely.
Qui-Gon smiled at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your feelings do you credit,” he said. “I, too, sense grave danger ahead of us, but as Jedi it is our duty to help those in need, and Callodas Three is most definitely in need of our help. Try not to worry. The Force is our ally, Padawan. It will give us the strength to endure, and, if we use it well, to triumph. Now,” he said, changing his tone so abruptly it made Obi-Wan jump, “how about something to eat? You never got breakfast.”