Star Wars - Jedi Apprentice 03 - The Hidden Past

  Jedi Apprentice

  #3

  The Hidden Past

  by

  Jude Watson

  .lit by DrB 11/04

  Chapter 1

  The market place in the city of Bandor was bustling as Obi-Wan Kenobi strode through it. He would have liked to stop to but a piece of muja fruit, but Qui-Gon Jinn’s steps never flagged. Obi-Wan’s Master moved through the crowded streets with movements as fluid as a river. Without seeming to dodge or weave, he created a path with the least amount of energy. Obi-Wan felt like a clumsy sandcrawleer next to a graceful starfighter.

  He was careful to keep up. He was about to leave on his first mission with Qui-Gon. The Jedi Knight had been reluctant to take Obi-Wan as his apprentice. Even though they had been through battles and adventures together, Qui-Gon had been hesitant. Only with their last adventure, facing death deep in the mining tunnels of Bandor together, had Qui-Gon made the decision to accept him as his apprentice.

  Obi-Wan was still unsure of his master’s feelings about him. Qui-Gon was a quiet man who didn’t share his thoughts until necessary. Obi-Wan knew little about the mission ahead. He would have to find the patience to wait until Qui-Gon told him the details. Meanwhile, he had a crucial question burning on his lips, one that he did not dare ask: Did Qui-Gon know that today was his birthday?

  Today he was thirteen. This birthday was an important occasion for a Jedi apprentice. He was now officially a Padawan. Traditionally, this birthday was not marked by a celebration, but observed quietly, with reflection and meditation. Obi-Wan was aware that as part of the tradition he would receive a meaningful gift from his Master.

  Qui-Gon had not mentioned it this morning. Bot as they ate, or prepared for the journey, or walked to the landing platform. Qui-Gon had barely spoken three words. Had he forgotten? Did he know? Obi-Wan was longing to remind Qui-Gon, but heir relationship was too new. He wouldn’t want his Master to think of him as greedy or self-important, or even worse, a nag.

  Surely Yoda would have told Qui-Gon. Obi-wan knew that the two Jedi Masters were in constant contact. Or perhaps the mission ahead was so important that Yoda had forgotten, too.

  The skirted the last vendor, cut down an alleyway, and arrived at the landing platform. The Governor of Bandomeer had arranged a transport for them in gratitude for their work. She’d found a small trading vessel willing to take them on the journey to the planet of Gala. Obi-Wan knew that once they got on the ship, the talk would center on the mission ahead. Should he tell Qui-Gon it was his birthday now?

  Ahead, a tall, gangly pilot loaded transport boxes onto his ship. Obi-Wan recognized the long, flexible arms of the Phindar. Obi-Wan quickened his pace to reach him, but Qui-Gon put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Close your eyes, Obi-Wan,’ he instructed.

  Obi-Wan groaned inwardly. Not now! He begged. He knew that Qui-Gon was about to drill him on a classic Jedi exercise: Attention to the Moment Gives Knowledge. At the Temple, Obi-Wan had always done well with the exercise. But he’d been distracted this morning, and could barely remember anything except his own birthday.

  “What do you see?” Qui-Gon asked.

  Eyes closed, Obi-Wan gathered his thoughts as though they had been feathers in a windstorm. He plucked observations out of the air, remembering things his eyes had registered but his min had not.

  “Small transport with one deep scratch in right flank, several dents on the underside of cockpit. Phindian pilot with flight cap, goggles, and dirty fingernails. Twelve cargo boxes ready to be loaded, one flight bag, one medpac . . .”

  “The hanger,” Qui-Gon prompted gently.

  “One stone overhang with three docking bays. Cracks running vertically down the stone, a green vine trying to grow three meters down from the ceiling on the left, with one purple flower four meter down –“

  “Six meters,” Qui-Gon corrected sternly. “Open your eyes, Obi-Wan.”

  His eyes flew open. Qui-Gon’s piercing blue gaze studied him, making him feel, as always, as though his lightsaber was dragging on the ground, or his tunic was stained.

  “Are you distracted by something, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked.

  “My first official mission, Master. “I want to do well.”

  “You will do what you will do.” Qui-Gon responded neutrally. He waited, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan’s face. It was forbidden for an apprentice to lie to a Master, to conceal the truth, or even shade it.

  Obi-Wan willed his feet not to shift and his eyes to remain steady on Qui-Gon’s. “Perhaps I’m distracted by something more personal, Master.”

  A gleam of amusement suddenly lit Qui-Gon’s eyes. “Ah. A birthday, perhaps?”

  Obi-Wan nodded, a grin escaping.

  “You would be expecting your gift, then” Qui-Gon frowned. He had forgotten, after all! But after only a moment, he reached into the pocket of his tunic. His large, strong hand emerged, concealing something hidden in his palm.

  Obi-Wan stared expectantly. Masters usually thought for weeks or months about their gifts, often traveling to far reaches for a healing crystal, or a blanket or cloak from the weavers of the planet Pasmin, who wove garment of great warmth out of material so fine it was almost weightless.

  Qui-Gon pressed a smooth, round stone into Obi-Wan’s hand.

  “I found it years ago,” Qui-Gon explained. “When I was no older than you are now.”

  Politely, Obi-Wan stared at the stone. Did it contain some sort of power?

  “I found it in the River of Light on my home planet,” Qui-Gon continued.

  And? Obi-Wan wondered. But Qui-Gon was silent. Obi-Wan realized that the present his Master had given him was exactly what it appeared to be: a rock.

  Qui-Gon was no ordinary Master. Obi-Wan knew that. So he looked at the tone again. His finger closed around the stone. It felt smooth and polished. He liked the way it felt in his hand. And when the sun hit it, he could see deep read streaks running through the shiny blackness. It was beautiful, he realized.

  He met Qui-Gon’s eyes. “Thank you, Master. I will treasure it.”

  “And did you complete the Padawan birthday ritual?” Qui-Gon asked. “Only be remembering the past are we able to learn from the present."”

  On his or her thirteenth birthday, each Padawan must take a quiet time for reflection. Both good and bad memories must be consulted and meditated on.

  “I have not had time, Master,” Obi-Wan admitted. His mission on Bandomeer had been full of dangers – he had been kidnapped and marooned on a mining platform, among other things. Qui-Gon knew he had not had time. Why was he asking?

  “Yes, time is elusive,” Qui-Gon said, unmoved. “But it is best to track it down. Come, the pilot is waiting.”

  Obi-Wan trailed after Qui-Gon, fighting off a feeling of hopelessness. Would he ever please his new Master? Just when he felt Qui-Gon had given him the strong base of his trust, he found himself hanging free. Now he realized that the only thing Qui-Gon had ever truly given him was a rock.

  Chapter 2

  “Two minutes,” the pilot called out to them as they approached. “I finish loading.”

  “I am Qui-Gon Jinn and this is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Qui-Gon introduced them.

  “Yes, big surprise, Jedi are not hard to spot,” the pilot mumbled, picking up a loading carton.

  “And you are . . .” Qui-Gon waited.

  “Pilot. I am what I do.” He had the red-streaked yellow eyes of a Phindian, as well as hands that dangled near his ankles.

  “You’re a Phindian,” Obi-Wan said. “I have a friend . . . someone I know is a Phindian. His name is Guerra.” Guerra had been a fellow mi
ning slave on the platform where Obi-Wan had been held captive. He had almost lost his life in order to save Obi-Wan.

  “So I know him?” Pilot answered gruffly. “I am expected to know every Phindian in the galaxy!”

  “No, of course not,” Obi-Wan said, confused. The pilot’s rudeness surprised him. It was almost as though Obi-Wan had offended him in some way.

  “Then let me load, and you board,” Pilot answered brusquely.

  “Come, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon directed.

  Obi-Wan trailed after Qui-Gon into the cockpit, where they took their seats.

  “For our first mission together, Yoda has chosen something he thinks will be routine,” Qui-Gon told him. “Of course, Yoda also says, ‘If routine you count on, disappointed your hopes will be.’”

  Obi-Wan grinned. “It is better to expect nothing, and let each moment surprise you,” he said. It was something he had been taught at the Temple.

  Qui-Gon nodded. “The planet of Gala has been ruled for many years by the Beju-Tallah dynasty. They were successful in uniting a world with deep tribal hatreds. There are three tribes on Gala – the city people, the hill people, and the sea people. Over the years the Tallah rulers grew corrupt. They plundered the planet of wealth, and the people are close to revolt. The old Queen knows this. Instead of giving the throne to her son, Prince Beju, she has agreed to elections. The people will choose among three candidates. The Prince is among them. He has lived in seclusion for mush of his life. The Queen feared for his safety. Yet he was trained as a ruler, and is anxious to gain the throne.”

  “Elections sound wise for the planet,” Obi-Wan remarked.

  “Yes, it is always better to adapt to change,” Qui-Gon agreed. “Still, some continue to resist. Prince Beju for example. We are told that he not happy that he has to submit to a vote by the people. He considers the rule of Gala to be his birthright. We will be there as guardians of the peace, to make sure the elections go smoothly.”

  Is there any sign that the Prince is planning something?” Obi-Wan asked.

  “Yoda says not,” Qui-Gon answered. “But he also said that we should not rely on that.” Qui-Gon sighed. “It was a typical conversation with Yoda. So we should be prepared for anything.”

  Pilot climbed into the cockpit and sat down in the seat. He leaned over to set a course into the navi-computer. “I’ll drop you on Gala and go on,” he said. “Now sit tight and don’t talk much.”

  Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged an amused glance. Were they being transported by the rudest pilot in the galaxy?

  The ship took off, and within moments Bandomeer was just another planet, a grayish world in deep blue space. Obi-Wan stared out the viewscreen at it. Below him, friends he had made would go on with their lives.

  “I wonder what Si Treemba is doing.” He said softly.

  “Putting his nose where it doesn’t belong, most likely,” Qui-Gon said. But Obi-Wan knew that the Jedi was just as fond of Si Treemba as he was. His Arconan friend had been loyal and brave.

  “He and Clat’Ha will have their hands full on Bandomeer,” Qui-Gon remarked, naming another friend. “The planet has a long way to go to reclaim their natural resources.”

  “I’ll miss Guerra, too,” Obi-Wan said with a sigh. “He was a loyal friend.”

  “Loyal?” Qui-Gon frowned. “He betrayed you to the guards. You almost died because of Guerra.”

  “But he saved me in the end,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “Sure, the guards threw me off the mining tower. But Guerra made sure there was a sling for me to fall into.”

  “You were lucky, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said. “The Force helped you to land safely. No, I can’t agree with you about your friend. If someone claims that he is not to be trusted, it is generally a good idea to take note of it. I’m not saying that Guerra is bad, but I’d certainly be wary of such a character.”

  Suddenly, the ship veered and dipped alarmingly.

  “Oops, sorry, very strange space shear,” Pilot said. “Too much distracting talking behind me. Time for hyperspace.”

  The ship shot into hyperspace. Bandomeer disappeared in a rush of stars. Obi-Wan felt a thrill of excitement. He was off on his first official mission.

  They were halfway to Gala when a warning light began to blink and beep insistently on the control panel.

  “Don’t worry,” Pilot said. “Just a small fuel leak.”

  “Fuel leak?” Qui-Gon asked. The beeping suddenly shifted to a loud siren.

  “Oops, worry,” Pilot said. He shut off the indicator. “I must exit hyperspace and land on the nearest planet to our location.” Swiftly, he entered information into the navi-computer. “Not a problem,” he continued, whistling through his teeth.

  The ship shuddered as it reentered normal space. Immediately, the comm unit came alive.

  “Identify yourself!” a loud voice demanded.

  “Ah,” Pilot muttered. “This world is unfriendly.”

  “What planet is it?” Qui-Gon asked.

  “Closed to outside ships,” Pilot muttered.

  “Identify or be destroyed!” the voice thundered.

  “So find another planet!” Qui-Gun suggested sharply, beginning to lose his patience.

  “emergency.” Pilot leaned into the comm unit. “we have an emergency on board. And Jedi! It is a Jedi emergency! Asking permission to land –“

  “Permission not granted! Repeat: permission not granted!”

  Qui-Gon peered through the viewscreen. “Were are we, Pilot? We must be close to Gala. This should be a populated system. There has to be somewhere else to land!”

  “Not so!” Pilot cried as he maneuvered the ship with a lurch to the right.

  Not so? Obi-Wan heard the expression with a start. His friend Guerra had used it so many times!

  “Why not?” Qui-Gon demanded.

  Suddenly two starfighters appeared and split off with each other in order to flank them. Laser cannons began to fire.

  “Because we are under attack!” Pilot screamed.

  Chapter 3

  Pilot began to take evasive action as the starfighters screamed toward them. Obi-Wan was thrown against the console.

  “I think I can lose them!” Pilot shouted as the ship was attacked by laser fire.

  “Stop!” Qui-Gon roared. He threw himself forward and wrenched the control from Pilot’s grasp. “Are you a fool? This transport can’t outmaneuver two starfighters!”

  “I’m a good pilot!” Pilot said wildly. “And can’t you use that Force of yours?”

  Qui-Gon gave him a sharp look, then shook his head. “We can’t work a miracle,” he said firmly. “The starfighters are escorting us down. If you don’t follow them, they’ll blast us right out of space.”

  Grudgingly, Pilot took the controls again. The starfighters wheeled and flanked them, guiding then down toward the planet’s surface. When the landing platform was in view, they waited until they were sure the transport ship was landing, then zoomed off.

  Slowly, Pilot set the transport down. Qui-Gon strode to the viewscreens to get a full view of the landing platform. “Assassin droids are surrounding the ship,” he reported.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Pilot said nervously. “I have a couple of blasters and a proton grenade –“

  “No,” Qui-Gon interrupted. “We will not fight. They’re here to guard us until someone arrives. They won’t attack us.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Pilot remarked, eyeing them.

  “I’m ready, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

  “Then come.” Qui-Gon activated the release lever for the exit ramp. He strode out, followed closely by Obi-Wan. Pilot lurked in the doorway.

  The assassin droids turned toward them but their built-in blasters did not fire. “You see, they’re here as escorts,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

  Obi-Wan walked down the ramp, keeping his eyes on the droids. They were killing machines, designed and programmed for battle without conscience or conseq
uence. What kind of world had they landed on?

  When they hit the bottom of the ramp, Qui-Gon slowly raised his hands. “We are Jedi –“ he began, but his words were cut off by blaster fire. The assassin droids were attacking!

  Obi-Wan heard the flap of his Master’s cape as Qui-Gon jumped and twisted, landing on a pile of old metal crates nearby. And Obi-Wan was moving too, moving before thought, leaping over the heads of the first line of droids. His lightsaber was already in his hand. He activated it and saw the reassuring blue glow.

  He could hear the click and whirr of the droids’ joints as the swiveled, trying to get better aim. The Jedi had the advantage of speed and better maneuverability. Obi-Wan found that, using the Force and his own perceptions, he could predict which way a droid would move.