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
The first part of the journey was the hardest. They had to leave the tunnels and risk the trip through twilit streets. They stayed in the shadows of alleys and doorways as much as possible and when they had to move out in the open they flitted like wraiths without making a noise. The Force had chosen well for Obi-Wan; the twenty behind him were nearly invisible as they wound their way through the streets. Many, if not all of them were thieves, or worse, he felt sure. Under normal circumstances he would have avoided their company altogether. But these, he remarked silently, were definitely not normal circumstances.
At last they were able to enter the underground tunnels again and move with less caution. It was nearly pitch black, but Garret led them confidently through miles of corridor until at last they came to a small door in the wall. Garret stopped them and motioned for Obi-Wan. The Padawan stepped forward.
“Now you deal with it,” whispered Garret. “This door leads to the edge of the Palace grounds. I talked to the kid before we left and she says it’s a big lumpy stone building. Should be off to the left.” Almost as an afterthought he patted Obi-Wan roughly on the shoulder. “Good luck,” he mumbled, embarrassment tinting his voice.
Obi-Wan nodded solemnly and slowly turned the old-fashioned knob on the door. The door swung open, creaking. He froze as the sound echoed through the tunnel. He didn’t move for a minute, then two, then three. When there was no response from outside he stepped cautiously into the street, motioning for the others to follow. He scanned his surroundings. In front of him there was a huge open lawn leading to a tall sweeping building--the palace, he supposed. To his left and right were a series of squat buildings, structured to match the architecture of the palace. Remembering Garret’s instructions, he headed left, keeping to the shadows of the buildings, followed by his train of assistants.
In this light all the buildings looked the same: big and lumpy, just like the description. The girl seemed to have left out the part about all the other buildings just like it.... Again Obi-Wan would have to trust his feelings. He closed his eyes and stretched out with the Force, using it as a window into the storehouses. Food, technical equipment, medical supplies--here his mind lingered. It would be so easy.... But he knew he had to keep his mind on the task at hand. He probed further. Cleaning supplies, droid maintenance. Weapons. Fifth to the right.
He moved again and the others followed. Then they heard the tramping of boots as the guard came up on his nightly rounds. The rebels noiselessly scattered, hiding themselves in ditches and doorways. Crouching by the side of a storehouse, Obi-Wan reached out to the guard’s mind, clouding it with a gentle application of the Force. The guard shook his head and yawned, then continued groggily down the street and disappeared from view. Obi-Wan released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
One by one his troop emerged from the darkness and rejoined him. Then they headed onwards. Obi-Wan stopped them in front of the weapons storage building. One man tugged on his sleeve and gave him a look. Obi-Wan read his thoughts clearly: //How do you know this is the one?//
//I’m a Jedi,// answered Obi-Wan in the man’s mind. //Trust me.// The man looked startled and confused, but he did not complain again. Obi-Wan examined the lock on the door mentally. A security code was needed, as well as an iris check. He might be able to bypass it, but it would take far too long. There was an alarm, too, to prevent hot-wiring. He cursed silently. This would be more difficult than he had anticipated.
“Hide,” he whispered to the others. In less than two seconds they were gone. Obi[Wan stepped into the middle of the street, trying to shake the feeling that this was suicide, and softly cleared his throat. It wasn’t long before he heard the footsteps of the guard returning, this time at a run. The guard saw him immediately and took aim. He reached for his comlink, his blaster still trained on Obi-Wan.
“You don’t need to call for reinforcements,” said Obi-Wan gently, moving his right hand a fraction of an inch. The guard placed his comlink back in his vest pocket, looking bewildered. “I’m not a threat,” said Obi-Wan. The guard seemed to consider for a while, then returned his blaster to its holster.
“You’re not a threat,” he agreed, staring transfixed into Obi-Wan’s intense blue eyes.
“I would like to inspect the weapon supply,” suggested the Padawan, moving his hand again.
“Would you like to inspect the weapons supply?” asked the guard, punching a code into the number panel beside the door. His irises were scanned and the door slid open with a small “whoosh.” Obi-Wan thanked the guard, then calmly pinched a nerve in the back of his neck. The guard swayed and slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Obi-Wan waved and the rebels emerged again and slipped into the storehouse. Moments later they came out again, each carrying several blasters and a few detonators. Obi-Wan in turn took an armful of weaponry and closed the door quietly behind him.
It was difficult to move silently with a pile of weaponry in tow, but somehow they managed it. They wove through the streets and passages without incident, but Obi-Wan thought he could feel watchful eyes focused on his party. He hoped it was only his imagination.
As they again entered the cavern, they were nearly knocked down by a rush of sound as the rebels cheered. The weapons were distributed to the adults, and Obi-Wan could feel an increase in confidence and hope from the group. Again he moved to the center of the room and ignited his lightsaber. The crowd sobered.
“It’s been a good night,” said Obi-Wan. Cheers from the crowd punctuated it. “But it’s only the beginning. Tomorrow night I’ll take another group for food and medical supplies. For now, you can rest, but I’ll need a few people to go get some food from the other hideouts.” Once again there was a stream of volunteers. Obi-Wan quieted them with a gesture. “I don’t really care who goes, as long as you can stay safe and quiet. Bring as much food as you can, then we’ll deal out rations.”
Enthusiastically, the people departed. Obi-Wan walked back over to Qui-Gon’s mattress. He was buffeted by congratulatory slaps on the back, but he focused only on Qui-Gon.
Finally, he broke through the throng and knelt by his Master’s side, ordering away his admirers. Qui-Gon had gotten worse. His breath rasped unevenly and he shook as if from cold. Obi-Wan took off his full brown robe and wrapped it around Qui-Gon’s shoulders, hoping it would offer some warmth. He gently brushed a strand of hair back from where it had fallen into the Jedi’s face.
Obi-Wan was frightened. If Qui-Gon, with a Jedi’s healing powers, couldn’t fend off the fever and infection, they must indeed be serious. It was clear Qui-Gon couldn’t hold out much longer. Obi-Wan examined the wound again. It hadn’t gotten much worse, but it was not healing. He wished he could go out for the medical supplies then, but the sun was probably already rising, and he could not risk the trip in daylight. A growing feeling of hopelessness took him as he applied more disinfectant and a fresh bandage. What good would the people’s freedom be if Qui-Gon couldn’t see it?
//Stop being selfish,// he reprimanded himself. //Your duty is to save these people. It would be your duty even if Qui-Gon hadn’t told you to.//
The scouts were coming back with food now and many approached him first, offering him the best of what they had. Obi-Wan refused it reluctantly, saying he would take the same amount as the rest of them. //That was probably a lie,// he realized with amazement. It was not a Jedi’s nature to lie. When he got back to the Temple he’d have to spend a few days meditating, reestablishing his bond with the Light Side of the Force.
He focused on waking Qui-Gon again. It pained him to do it. It was obvious consciousness was torture for Qui-Gon, but he could not let his Master starve. It was a struggle just to reach him. Gently Obi-Wan began to pull the conscious part of Qui-Gon forward through the chaos of the fever. His grip on his Master was slippery, but he hung on ferociously, beginning to realize that more was at stake in this struggle than he thought. Qui-Gon had retreated far into the back of his mind in an attempt to fight the injury and sickness from within.
Qui-Gon’s battle for life had forced him back further and further until he was just barely hanging on to his corporeal self. If Obi-Wan couldn’t pull him back he would be torn from his body altogether. He would die. Obi-Wan threw himself into the effort, holding on desperately to Qui-Gon’s mind, lending him strength. He felt Qui-Gon sense him and draw on the Padawan’s power. It was an eternity before Obi-Wan felt the fever begin to lose its grip on his Master.
He came back to reality with a jerk. He was trembling from exhaustion and his clothes clung to him with sweat. He looked at Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon looked back. Obi-Wan nearly collapsed with relief. The fever had broken and the worst was finally over. Now Qui-Gon would have the strength to heal the blaster wound, at least partially.
The Jedi Master smiled at Obi-Wan. “Thank you, Padawan.” He was pale and his voice hoarse, but at least he was breathing more easily.
“I’ll go and get you your dinner, Master.” Minutes later Obi-Wan returned with a plate of salted meat and reconstituted vegetables. With both allotted portions together it made a fairly passable meal. Qui-Gon ate with refreshing appetite, though still not able to use his left arm to hold the plate.
“And you, Obi-Wan?” he asked after he had finished.
“Oh, I... uh... already had all I’m going to have.” He caught Corena watching him from the corner of his eye. He glanced at her and she turned away.
Qui-Gon nodded. Either he hadn’t picked up on Obi-Wan’s hesitation or he dismissed it as being due to stress.
“How is the rebellion progressing?” Qui-Gon asked.
“We’ve already armed ourselves and tonight I’m taking a party out to get food and medical supplies. I’m pretty sure the Government knows we have the weapons by now, but I don’t think they’ll be able to find us.”
No sooner had he said it than he heard blaster fire in the tunnel outside, proving him wrong. In one fluid motion he was on his feet, pushing his way through panicked crowds to the door. As soon as his way was clear, he ignited his lightsaber and ran full speed towards the tunnel entrance.
His legs were slightly wobbly from lack of food and sleep, but determination and adrenaline lent him strength. He burst through the door into the dark tunnel and was greeted with a shower of blaster fire. His lightsaber wove in intricate patterns, and not a single bolt got past it.
He looked around for the four rebel guards who had been posted at the door. Only one was still alive, firing one-handed, the other dangling uselessly at his side. Obi-Wan moved to stand in front of him, shielding him as he fired at the soldiers. Obi-Wan couldn’t be quite sure how many enemy soldiers there were, but they were dropping steadily.
Eventually there were only three, then two, then one, then that one fell and Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsaber. He put an arm around the rebel who had fought beside him, supporting most of his weight. The two of them limped back inside.
No one made a sound. A hundred faces were turned to Obi-Wan, their expressions grim and eyes fearful. The Padawan lowered his compatriot onto the floor so the man could sit with his back against the wall.
“Garret?” he called. The rebel stepped forward. “We have to leave,” he said softly. “Can we afford to wait for nightfall?”
“Have to,” replied Garret. “We can’t just parade through the streets in the middle of the day, y’know.”
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
“I dunno. An hour for all the people, maybe. One and a half if you wanna take supplies.”
“I don’t think we’ll have that much time. They’ll send more forces before long. Is there anywhere we can go before nightfall that doesn’t involve leaving the tunnels?”
“One place,” answered Garret thoughtfully, “but it won’t take ‘em long to find it if they found this one.”
“That’s all right. All we have to do is stop them from finding us before it gets dark. After that we can move to a safer place.”
Garret seemed to consider the plan for a while, then he nodded sharply.
“Good,” said Obi-Wan. “go ahead and take the first group there. Get the children and the elderly first. Then we’ll start evacuating the wounded.”
Garret saluted sarcastically and went to gather the first group. Obi-Wan returned to Qui-Gon and was surprised to find his Master still conscious.
“We’ve begun evacuation, Master,” he said, sitting down stiffly. “I’m afraid we’ll have to move again after dark. I fear for some of the more seriously injured. The move will not be easy for them; the mattresses are too much trouble to carry safely and quickly, and we don’t have any stretchers. I’m afraid we’ll have to carry them.” He paused. “Do you think you’ll be all right, Master?”
Qui-Gon laughed briefly, but it sounded more like a cough. “Don’t worry, Padawan,” he said, touching Obi-Wan’s arm reassuringly. “Now that the fever’s broken, I’ll be fine. Get the others out first. I’m in no hurry.” Obi-Wan hoped the hint of doubt in his Master’s voice was just a figment of his own stress and overactive imagination.
“Yes, Garret?” he said without turning around as he sensed the rebel’s presence behind him.
Garret jumped a little but recovered hastily. “We’re done with the first batch. How d’you want us to handle the hurt ones?”
Obi-Wan stood up and swayed from a brief spell of dizziness. He shook his head to clear it. “We can’t take the beds, so we’ll have to carry them. Get at least five carriers per person and make sure they’re slow and careful. I don’t want to lose anyone before we have a chance to get medical supplies. I’ll be along in a minute to help.”
Obi-Wan bent down to Qui-Gon again as the rebel left. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine, Obi-Wan. I promise.”
And that was that. Obi-Wan went to carry out the others with the knowledge in his heart that Qui-Gon had given his word, and his Master never broke a promise.
Over the next few hours, Obi-Wan kept busy giving orders and helping to evacuate the wounded as fast as possible, sometimes helping to carry, sometimes using the Force to keep the seriously injured in stable condition as they were carried out. His muscles ached and he was giddy with hunger and fatigue, but he kept going until only Qui-Gon remained in the cavern. The Jedi was asleep again, breathing slightly faster than he should have been. Obi-Wan had to remind himself that although the worst was over, Qui-Gon was far from healed. There was still the torn muscle and shattered bone to be contended with, as well as the infection.
Qui-Gon moaned slightly as Obi-Wan and a few other volunteers lifted him and carried him through the twisting passageways to a neighboring cavern, much like the one they had left, only slightly smaller. Since they had left the beds behind out of necessity, they laid Qui-Gon on the hard floor.
Since everyone was tired and irritable, Obi-Wan ordered an hour-long break. Everyone was to sleep if they could and tend to the wounded if they could not. He and Garret decided to take guard duty. Obi-Wan was surprised at Garret’s willingness to participate, but he decided not to bring it up.
They stood in silence for a while in the passageway.
“So,” said Obi-Wan, just for the sake of making a little noise and keeping himself awake, “do you actually think this might work?”
Garret was startled. “I dunno,” he mused after another pause. “You’ve done pretty good so far, Jedi, but we’re a long way from independence.” He said the last word scornfully, like he was talking about a silly childhood ambition.
“Why are you so skeptical?” queried Obi-Wan, annoyed. “You’re so determined not to get hopeful. Why?” He knew it was tactless, but he was tired and hungry and sore, and it made him reckless.
“None of your business, Jedi,” Garret snapped. “You may think you live the tough life, but you’re wrong. You haven’t been here.” He exhaled through clenched teeth. “You wanna know what my real name is?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Brehan Pollo Ch’Andri.” He leaned against the wall, frowning hostilly into the darkness, daring Obi-Wan to reply.
The Padawan was stunned. He groped for words but found none. His mind was racing to make sense of what he had just heard. Garret related to Yemil Ch’Andri, ambassador of the Central Government?
“How?” he breathed.
Garret scowled at him. “She’s my sister,” he muttered. “Two years ago she married Kadden Badir. She kept her name, I changed mine.”
Obi-Wan nodded. Kadden Badir. The head of the Callodas Three Central Government. Things were beginning to make sense. “So that’s why she has so much power.” He had wondered ever since he arrived why the name Ch’Andri seemed to be associated with everything that went on.
“Yeah,” said Garret somberly. “I guess you could kind of call her the power behind the throne. Not even behind, anymore, really.”
“Is that why you’re reluctant to fight?”
“I know my own sister, Jedi!” he snapped. “She’s one of the smartest people on the planet. You may think she’s been making mistakes, but she hasn’t. Trust me, if you’re still alive it’s because she wants you to be. And when she wants you dead, you will be. That’s the way she works. So don’t get your hopes up too high.”
Obi-Wan was silent. This was too much for him. He had a headache. He was starting to feel the effects of the punishment he was asking his body to bear in the form of dizziness and nausea. Now, on top of all that, he had to deal with the knowledge that he was allied with his enemy’s own brother, and that brother was sure they would fail in their attempt to win freedom. Obi-Wan sat down wearily, rubbing his temples.
“You okay?” asked Garret, sounding like he didn’t particularly care. He probably didn’t, reflected Obi-Wan.
“No,” answered Obi-Wan honestly.
“Oh.”
There was another awkward silence. Eventually, Obi-Wan wrestled his stress and frustration down to a manageable level. “So why aren’t you at the Palace, too?” he asked.
“I was for a while,” the rebel answered. It was obviously hard for him to make this confession, and Obi-Wan didn’t pressure him about it, but maintained respectful but interested silence.
“When Yemil married, I was offered a position as an Advisor. I took it. For a while it was fine, but then Yemil started making Badir pull for complete monarchy. She worked fast, but she was smart enough not to be obvious. It only took half a year for Yemil to get rid of the power the lower classes had. And Badir just went right along with it, curse him. I tried to make him see what he was doing, but the minute I got to protesting, Yemil kicked me out. I tried to start a rebellion, just like you’re doing, Jedi. That was stupid. It gave Yemil an excuse to send out the army. Half of us were killed. The rest hid out for a while. We dug these passages ourselves so we’d have a place to go. I dunno why it took Yemil so long to find out about them. Maybe she thought we wouldn’t be a threat. Maybe she was right.”
“So you’re the rebel leader she talked about,” said Obi-Wan.
Garret snorted. “Not much of one. I gave up after the first time. If she talked about a rebel leader, Jedi, it was just to get you and your boss off guard. Maybe get your hopes up.”
“I’m not going to stop trying, Garret,” said Obi-Wan. “I promised I would free you and I will, or die trying.”
“Probably,” said Garret. “So what’s your next move gonna be?”
Obi-Wan bristled at the scorn in Garret’s voice. “Well, since the evacuation will probably take most of the night if we have to be careful--which we will--I’ll have to wait till tomorrow night to steal food and medical supplies. After that we’ll rest for a week and work on battle training and healing the injured. After that, we attack the Palace.”
“It was nice knowing you,” said the rebel. “For a Jedi you’re awfully dim.”
“I’m only an Apprentice,” said Obi-Wan with exaggerated modesty.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Look, Garret, I know it’s a stupid move. That’s why I’m making it. Ch’Andri--Yemil, that is--won’t expect that from a Jedi. I may be able to at least surprise her a little. At the moment I’ll take any advantage I can get.”
“That’s not the only reason, is it?” asked Garret slyly.
“No,” said the Padawan softly. “I want to get him out of here as fast as I can. Call me selfish, but in the long run I think he’s more important to me than anything else.”
“How touching,” said Garret dryly.
Obi-Wan was peeved. He had just revealed his innermost feelings to the man, and Garret had only sarcasm to give. Obi-Wan couldn’t understand why he had told Garret at all, or, for that matter, why Garret had revealed to him all he had.
“Garret?” he asked tentatively.
“Hm?”
“Why did you tell me? About, you know...”
“Because I don’t want you to be as stupid as I was. I guess I’m still being dumb thinking you’ll listen to me. You really don’t know Yemil, though. Just trying to save lives, that’s all I’m doing.”
Obi-Wan was getting sick of this. Abruptly, he leapt to his feet and took Garret by the shoulders, staring straight into his eyes.
“Listen,” he said roughly. “Frankly, I don’t care what you think. Neither do those people in there, and most of them were here the first time. We’re going to storm the Palace, and we’re going to win this war. So stop being so damned pessimistic.” He released Garret and leaned defiantly against the wall, staring straight ahead and fuming silently.
Garret did not reply. Obi-Wan could feel the rebel’s eyes on him, confused and angry. The Padawan didn’t care. The tension built for many long minutes until the door opened and light and sound spilled into the passageway. A small, thin face stared out. Obi-Wan recognized the girl who had directed them to the weapon storehouse.
“Um, Mr. Kenobi, sir?” she asked shyly.
“Yes?” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and soft.
“It’s been an hour, sir. Can we go yet?”
Obi-Wan smiled in spite of himself. “Yes,” he said, casting a sharp glance at Garret, “we’ll start at once. Just let me check outside and make sure it’s dark enough.”
The child grinned and disappeared, closing the door behind her. Obi-Wan headed down the passage, weaving through the labyrinth of tunnels towards the door to the outside world. He heard Garret’s quiet footfalls behind him.
“I’m not going to get lost, you know,” he said over his shoulder.
“Just making sure,” replied Garret. “A nerf-head like you isn’t safe to trust with finding his own head in the dark, usually.”
“Shut up, Garret.” He felt the rebel smirk.