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
Ch’Andri and her guards marched Obi-Wan through the palace again. This time his depression was real, if not his limp. Over and over a single phrase repeated itself in Obi-Wan’s head: //I failed him, I failed him, I failed him...// Now all depended on KeRaad. If she had been able to convince the rebels to evacuate again, there might still be the hope of forgiveness. If not, at least Obi-Wan might have hope of death.
The Padawan was vaguely surprised as he was pushed, not back to his cell, but to another wing of the palace. A door slid open in front of him and Obi-Wan stared horrified at an army of over a thousand armed, trained soldiers that stood at attention before him.
“Remember your promise,” Yemil Ch’Andri spoke into his ear. “They’d better be inside the rebel hideout by dawn, or things could get messy. We leave in two minutes, Jedi.”
It was the longest two minutes of Obi-Wan’s life. He formulated and rejected a multitude of escape plans, but his promise held him. There was no one he could call on for help, and he could not contact the rebels without another trance. He swung back and forth between hope and despair. It was driving him mad that he could do nothing to help the rebels or himself and Qui-Gon. All he could do was sit and wait to be used as a tool against the rebels and the Jedi, the two groups of people he had come to love the most.
Eventually the two minutes were up. The entire army was loaded onto speeders. Obi-Wan was shoved into the leading one along with Ch’Andri and five guards and they started into the city.
Obi-Wan navigated as best he could, trying to remember the layout of the city he had only seen in the dark. The house of Garret’s cousin, he thought, was in a poor residential area in about the center of town. He told Ch’Andri this much, briefly describing the house, trying to ignore his conscience, which screamed at him to fight or at least give false directions, anything to buy time for the rebels.
But he couldn’t. He had given his word to lead the Government’s army to the rebel hideout, and as a Jedi he could not break his promise. Soon the streets began to look familiar and he recognized the evacuation route he had taken with the rebels--had it only been a day ago?
“We’re almost there,” he told the ambassador. “We’ll need to take a left at the end of this street.” She nodded and, to Obi-Wan’s surprise, gave the command to halt. The speeders slowed and stopped with an eerie singing noise as the engines disengaged. The troops silently stepped from inside them and reformed their ranks. Obi-Wan was bustled out onto the street, the muzzle of a guard’s blaster cold against the back of his head.
“Walk,” Ch’Andri commanded. He obeyed, stiffly leading the way, praying to every deity he had ever heard of that no one would be there. Behind him, the army scarcely made any noise, only a dull collective thump as a thousand booted feet met the pavement in unison with each step.
Obi-Wan’s pulse pounded in his ears and he realized he was shaking slightly. The house loomed up in front of him, bigger than he remembered in the Callodean twilight.
“There’s a small key up high behind the right side of the doorframe. They’ll let you in if you turn it,” said Obi-Wan. //If they’re in there...// he added silently.
Grabbing him by the arm, Ch’Andri dragged Obi-Wan roughly up the stairs behind her. The guards followed. The Padawan was held in front of the door as a guard searched for the key and turned it. The woman was clearly taking no chances; in case of a trap, either the guard or Obi-Wan would be killed while Ch’Andri stood back at the bottom of the stairs and watched.
The guard found and turned the key. There was a long silence and the door swung slowly open. Obi-Wan’s mind cried out in shock and horror. They were still there. He was frozen with the knowledge that he had failed. His effort had not been enough and now the rebels would all die--Garret, KeRaad--all of them.
The face of Garret’s cousin peered cautiously around the side of the door. There was a flash and the whine of a blaster bolt as it sped past Obi-Wan’s ear, and Garret’s cousin was dead before he hit the ground. Obi-Wan could only stare in mute despair at the body, staring unknowingly through the ceiling, an expression of surprise frozen on his face.
Obi-Wan let himself be herded to the door leading to the basement, too stunned to resist. He was a traitor. His honor would die along with the hundred innocent people who even now were waiting below his feet. Qui-Gon would feel it, he knew. And his Master would reject him, maybe even hate him. Obi-Wan would no longer be worthy of the title Jedi. He would be expelled from the Temple, his Padawan braid cut off. Then he would die. That, at least, might give some comfort, just to cease to be.
The basement door was unlocked. A guard opened it, using Obi-Wan as a shield from the darkness below as he fumbled for the light panel. Obi-Wan blinked as the lights buzzed on, and, looking around, nearly shouted for joy: the basement was completely empty.
He heard Yemil Ch’Andri cry out in dismay behind him. He was grabbed by the shoulders and swung violently around, then slammed back against the wall.
“You lied to us!” cried Ch’Andri, her eyes flaming with rage inches from Obi-Wan’s face.
The Padawan shook his head calmly. “This is where they were when I left,” he said, surprised at how even his voice was. “They must have moved again.”
“Then find them,” she hissed.
Obi-Wan shrugged. “I can’t,” he said simply. “I would need to go into a trance, and I’m currently too weak to survive one.” //And you just killed the only person who knew where they were,// he added to himself almost triumphantly.
She nodded, slowly, and for some reason a chill shot up and down Obi-Wan’s spine. “Then Qui-Gon Jinn will die.” She said it softly, calmly.
Obi-Wan’s being cried out in denial and despair. He couldn’t let Qui-Gon die. Not now. Not after he had done so much to save him already. Obi-Wan felt a terrible power rising inside him. He welcomed it and let it use him, possess him. He hard his binders clatter to the ground, although he could not remember unlocking them.
He ducked as the guard holding him fired the blaster that had been pointed at the back of his head, kicking the man in the stomach. He knew the fight was already lost; he was trapped, the door blocked by an army of trained soldiers. But still he fought, desperately, without hope of success or survival.
“Take him alive!” cried a woman’s voice behind him. He couldn’t remember her name or face, but it didn’t matter anymore. Obi-Wan spun, using the Force to throw the advancing guards backwards against the wall. He ran towards the door, muscles tight for combat. He sprang at the soldiers blocking the door, slamming into them with more power than his slight frame should have allowed. Several of them fell, surprised. He sprang over their heads and into the streets.
Obi-Wan had gained the freedom of the outdoors, but his jump had landed him in the middle of a long line of troops. They had clearly been ready for him, for the minute his feet touched the ground, Obi-Wan was attacked from all directions.
He fought viciously, but his strength was waning fast. The butt end of a blaster caught him hard on the back of the head. Stars flashed in front of his eyes and he fell, but somehow staggered back onto his feet. He took a savage kick in the side. He fell again, but again struggled back up, gasping for air. Someone tackled him, pinning his arms behind his back. He was thrown to the ground, held still by many pairs of strong hands. He squirmed and thrashed, but could not free himself. He took another blow to the head, and another.
“Forgive me, Master,” he gasped aloud as he sank into darkness.
Obi-Wan awoke suddenly, crying out for Qui-Gon. He had felt... he shuddered to the core of his being. It was like his soul had died somewhere in the night, leaving him empty and alone. He looked desperately over at the woman who was standing passively in the corner of the cell. He still couldn’t remember who she was or why she was there, but she might know.
The woman looked back at him, her eyes like ice. Two words left her lips, so slowly: “He’s dead.”