"Lost Light" - A New FanFic by Cassia

Oh no! Obi-Wan is in trouble! Please hurry with more, I have to find out what happens!

 

"Geez, what?d you do kid?!" the other man shouted in alarm.

Several guards and overseers appeared immediately and called a technician. The Technician was able to stop the claxons, but the damage would take about an hour to fix. The Tech identified the problem as having originated from Obi-Wan?s control panel. He had apparently not only pulled the wrong thing at the wrong time, but had done an entirely wrong sequence at the worst time possible.

The overseers swore at Obi-Wan in Driosian. This delay would set production back hours and they would be reprimanded for the drop. "We know how to deal with saboteurs," they threatened angrily, thinking the damage done was intentional.

"It was an accident," Obi-Wan protested, but they were not about to believe him.

Under orders from the overseers, the guards dragged Obi-Wan outside. Thrusting his hands through the iron bars of the fence that surrounded the factory they clipped a set of binders around his wrists on the other side. Effectively trapping the boy against the fence, they ran charged electro-jabbers up and down his sides.

Obi-Wan clenched his eyes shut against the dizzying pain that tore through his body. His knees buckled and he sank down the fence until a crossbeam caught him, but he refused to make a sound.

Unfortunately, the guards were not about to stop until they knew they had made their point.

Agony engulfed Obi-Wan until it was all he could feel. Eventually, they did make him cry out, his body could take no more.

The guards removed their cruel instruments at last and Obi-Wan struggled to catch his breath.

"Make sure he?s not going to forget this anytime soon," one of the overseers said from behind them.

Obi-Wan stiffened. He did not know what they intended to do, but he was sure it would be painful. He was right.

One guard pulled the Padawan?s loose prison shirt up, exposing his back and the other gave the boy ten measured, but searing strokes with a heavy coil of barbed wire.

As the cruel barbs bit his back and shoulders Obi-Wan jerked and cried out. His pain threshold was already surpassed, and the added torture was too much for him to handle.

The guard actually went pretty easy on him, but Obi-Wan?s back was left bleeding anyway.

"Put him on duty five," someone ordered and the guards removed Obi-Wan?s binders.

Obi-Wan stumbled after the guards. He battled pain and dizziness, but more difficult was the war he fought against the depression and despair that sought to claim him. He tried to cling to Qui-Gon?s promise that they would get out of here. His Master had never broken a promise to him before, but where was Qui-Gon? Besides, in reality, what did he expect Qui-Gon, or himself, or anyone to do to get them out of this? Perhaps there was no way out, no way except death... No, he wouldn?t let himself think that way, it was un-Jedi. He could not let himself give up hope. Yet he had never felt so helpless. Where was Qui-Gon? His mind kept returning to that question like a Hopi to water.

"Be strong Obi-Wan, cling to the Force and you can make it." Obi-Wan heard his mentor?s voice, but it was more of an echo than a direct communication. It was as if Qui-Gon had left the message for him and he had just stumbled across it. In that instant, Obi-Wan knew he truly was alone. They had taken Qui-Gon away and if he wanted to live long enough to even hope of ever seeing him again, the apprentice was going to have to manage on his own.

"You can make it," Qui-Gon?s words echoed in his head. His Master had faith in him. Obi-Wan just had to believe in himself. He squared his hurting shoulders. Whether he lived or died, he would do it in a way that would be deserving of Qui-Gon?s faith in him. That was one promise that he knew no one could stop him from keeping.
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Comments?

 

Excellent story! Can't wait for more!!!!!

 

Yes! Another excellent post! Woohoo!
And again I say, poor Obi-Wan! I eagerly await more.

 

What a talented writer. I can't wait to find out what happens next!

 

Yeah, who is this Cassia anyway? A professional writer by a different name? Excellent work! George Lucas should really tap her for the rest of the JA series.

 

I certainly agree with Jane Jinn--it is excellent work. That what I love about this forum. I've read some of the most amazing stories here, this one most certainly included.

 

Take notice, George Lucas. You've got talent here!

 

Whew! What a post! It leaves you hungry for more....please?

 

Uh... they didn't send Qui-Gon off to meet Julia Child and the gas chambers, did they?

 

Oh man, there's no new post. Come on, I need a post! Pretty please, with sugar on top?

 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. His arms were screaming at him in pain for the merciless way he was treating them. Stoically ignoring them, he forced the injured limbs to move, miming the motion of lifting his side of a large, twisted sheet of plexi-steel. The man carrying the other side of the piece had no idea that his companion suffered from two broken arms. Had no idea that Qui-Gon lifted, not with his arms, but with his mind, through the Force.

Qui-Gon mimed with his body the actions it was not capable to carry out, and did the rest through the Force. It was the only way he could function, but it was wearing him steadily down. In reality, his arms could bear no weight. Just the movement made them hurt so bad that it could almost disrupt even the Jedi Master?s concentration, but he did not let it. He dare not let it. Or he would be killed, and he would not abandon Obi-Wan like that. No matter what he had to do, he was going to get back to his apprentice. They were going to get out of this. Somehow...

"Your focus determines your reality," he told himself, closing off the pain, pushing past it. He knew that to heal he needed to accept the pain and welcome it as the indication that it was, but that was a luxury he could not allow himself right now. The pain was too overwhelming. To accept it would immobilize him, and he could not afford that. For now, he just had to keep shutting it out. Qui-Gon winced as they put the twisted piece of the wreck down and it scraped slightly against his wrists, pulling against his broken bones. Even shutting it out was not entirely possible.

Qui-Gon realized that as much as Obi-Wan had needed him, he had needed Obi-Wan. This could not go on. As much as he would like to believe otherwise, a part of him knew that he could not keep this charade up on his own indefinitely.

The special detail had been assembled to clear away the twisted, burned-out wreck of an exploded supply transport that was blocking the tracks. The transport had been blown up while entering a station, and so the mangled hulk of the building hung over the hapless prisoners as they worked, making the task hazardous as well as grueling. Every now and then some part of the ruined station would fall, or collapse down, sending the prison laborers scattering in all directions until the guards forced them back with their blasters, whips and electro-jabbers.

Sweat from the exertion and the warm day beaded on Qui-Gon?s brow and stung his eyes, but he couldn?t wipe it away, he was already stretching the limits of how much movement he could coax from his injured body.
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Terribly sorry for the wait. I had a lot to do last night. Comments?

 

Chills up the spine! This is so good.

 

Comments?
Awesome, Wonderful,Great, etc., etc., etc.

 

Oh yay! There's more story! Thank you thank you thank you! And now I have to say, poor Qui-Gon! That post was awesome, just like the rest of them.

 

*sigh* I wish I could write like that. I'm enjoying this so much!

 

I can't wait to find out what will happen!

 

Verjl Owskar swiped a hand across his brow, pushing his tightly curling raven hair back under the carefully polished brim of his hat. The day was unmercifully hot, as if the sun was determined to scorch the land as a punishment for its bloodthirsty government?s many sins.

All around Verjl, prison workers slaved away under the punishment of the intense heat and the merciless guards. They crawled over and through the remains of the transport wreck like so many ants, forced to attempt preposterously heavy loads that should have been left for the automated strength of mechanicals. Verjl kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back and his jaw firmly set so that his escorts had no indication of just what he thought of them, their wretched death camps and the whole blasted Drojan party.

"As you see Administrator Owskar, this explosion was a deliberate attempt to slow down our supply and munitions lines by treacherous insurgents, but you may assure his Excellency that the guilty parties have been apprehended and dealt with,"

Verjl?s lips tightened a little. He could just imagine how they had been dealt with. Of course, they had been fools for attempting it in the first place.

"... and everything is being done to insure a speedy return to schedule," the camp Head-Warden informed Verjl confidently.

"If everything is being done, then why are the prisoners doing this work?" he asked calmly, stepping carefully through the piles of debris near the partially decimated wall of station. "Would it not be faster to employ droids to remove this rubble?"

"Perhaps so Sir, but as you know, his Excellency requires all new droids that are bought or manufactured be for fighting and there just aren?t enough of the old ones to go around to risk them on a project like this. Besides," the Head-Warden shrugged. "Slaves are much more replaceable. What they lack in skill and strength, we make up for with numbers. We will have this clear with in the next three days. His Excellency has nothing to worry about."

Verjl nodded clippedly. As Second Administrator to his Supreme Excellency the Krallnorn, Leader of the entire Drojan party, he was used to people trying to curry favor with him. Little did they know how much their words and assurances had just the opposite effect on him. He wasn?t really surprised. Verjl already knew that the Krallnorn put little value on life, except perhaps his own. Still, to hear the Head-Warden actually say that these people?s lives were worth less than a collection of parts and bolts touched a cord in the Administrator?s buried conscience. If only they knew what he really thought of them... Verjl dismissed the suicidal thought. It was the way things were, at least, for now.

"Hey, you," the Head-Warden snapped at a middle-aged man who momentarily blocked their path with the large gear strut he was dragging. The man looked up. Verjl took in the prisoner without much interest, glancing swiftly over his strong features and long brown hair, which was slowly working it?s way out of the ponytail it was pulled back in and hung in loose strands about his face. However, when his gaze flittered over the man?s eyes, they stopped. There was something in those intense blue eyes that he didn?t know how to describe, but it was definitely not what he had expected. He knew from experience that prisoners in these camps usually wore one of two expressions, angry, or hopeless, but he saw neither in this man. Intriguing.

"Watch where you?re going fool!" The Head-Warden shoved the inmate.

The tall prisoner stumbled sideways, but did not fall. One of the guards clouted him between the shoulder blades with the butt of their blaster-rifle in a strong command to keep moving. The man grimaced. Paling a shade, he stumbled forward, this time falling to his knees. The guard raised his weapon to club the prisoner again, but Verjl moved between them, raising his hand in cold disgust. "The heat is miserable out here, must we prolong this? It would have been quicker if you just let him pass by," he said in haughty disdain.

"Apologies, Administ

 

Do I sense a possible ally in Verjl?
Will he help the boys out of that horrendous situation, then they can help him somehow?
Or are you only toying with my already strung out emotions?

Great post btw!

 

That was superb! What a way to start my day. (hey, that rhymes!)

 

A break for Qui-Gon! Awesome.

starts whistling theme from Hogan's Heroes.

 

Obi-Wan stumbled for the hundredth time. He had stopped berating himself for missing the rough, uneven patches of earth a while ago. They were everywhere, too numerous for him to avoid. Not surprising really, considering that the inmates of the camp were busily engaged in digging the area up, himself included. The work was arduous and the duty-officers harsh. Duty five was a punishment detail.

Snap! Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, goaded on by the stinging touch of the guard?s whip across his shoulders. "Me?ell!" the guard shouted at him. "Me?ell!"

Obi-Wan didn?t know exactly what that meant, but he didn?t really care. It was probably something like "Faster," either that or "Stupid..."

Obi-Wan dumped his load of rocks and headed back. Sweat trickled down his body, unmercifully stinging the bloody welts he had accumulated across his back and shoulders, both from the beating the day before, and from the continued abuse of the guards. The thin, rough material of his torn, grey prison shirt clung to the lacerations, making them burn when he moved. The pain and his own swirling emotions made an already difficult situation worse, preventing him from affording full concentration to his surroundings. He stumbled again; painfully scraping his hands and knee, already raw from his many falls.

His lack of coordination and balance grated on him almost as much as the pain he was in. Had he lost so much when he lost his eyes? A deep feeling of regret washed over Obi-Wan, but surprisingly, it was not his. His breath caught with a jolt as he realized that it was Qui-Gon?s. He reached out, beyond himself, beyond his pain, searching for his Master, but could not find him. That was not new, he had been unable to reach his Master since shortly after they were separated. At first, after he had gotten over his fear at being left alone and had calmed himself enough, Obi-Wan had been able to make contact with Qui-Gon. Their bond had been strengthened so much over the past few days that Obi-Wan had still been able to catch momentary glimpses of Qui-Gon?s surroundings now and then. When several guards took it upon themselves to beat Qui-Gon nearly senseless a few hours after his arrival at the wreck site, Obi-Wan not only saw, but felt it. The teenager had nearly gone berserk, getting himself a fair amount of abuse from the guards he was working under.

When Qui-Gon realized what was happening, he had cut their connection from his end, saving Obi-Wan from knowing what was happening with him, but also leaving them both truly alone. Obi-Wan had searched and floundered, but was unable to reestablish the connection while Qui-Gon was closed to him. He knew his Master had done it to protect him, but it still broke the Padawan?s heart to be so totally cut off from his Mentor. At last Obi-Wan gave up and no longer let himself think about it. But now... Obi-Wan felt apprehension grip the pit of his stomach. The regret had not been a communication per sé, but it had seemed aimed towards him, and it had felt frighteningly like good-bye.

Obi-Wan did not realize he had stopped dead in his tracks until a guard?s vicious blow sent him sprawling once more.

"Stop daydreaming! Get back to work!" the guard screamed at him. "Me?ell!"
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Comments?

 

Ooooh, those last two posts were awesome! I hope Verjil helps out Qui-Gon. And poor Obi-Wan!

 

Qui-Gon stirred. His throat was dry as dust and his body burned with a raging fever brought on by the stress of his injuries. Someone put something to his lips, which his foggy brain somehow managed to recognize as a cup. Cool liquid assuage his driving thirst, but he had no recollection of if it had any flavor, only that it was cool and blessedly wet. He could see nothing, and for a confused moment found himself thinking that that wasn?t right, it was Obi-Wan who... then he realized that he couldn?t see because his eyes weren?t open. For a moment he entertained the idea of leaving them that way, but a cool cloth placed on his forehead made his eyes open, almost automatically, to see who was there and where he was. He found himself on a bed, a real bed, in a small, but comfortable room.

A Nurse-droid hovered over him. The lines of the model showed that it was at least ten years old, but in excellent condition. The soft whir of the droid?s internal motors created a comforting, steady hum that filled the silence of the small room. There was no one else around.

Qui-Gon tried to sit up but found that he could not. He was not restrained in anyway; his body simply refused to respond to his commands. He was confused. Something was missing... the pain. The pain from his arms was missing. He did not realize just how used to it he had become until now. But how? Why...? The Jedi may not have been in pain, but his head was still as cloudy as a night on Bespin.

"Relax," the droid hummed, it?s voice set to a soothing pitch. "Movement will return in time. Your injuries were severe, I was required to give you quite a large dose of Anapathil."

Qui-Gon did not know what Anapathil was, but as long as it had helped as much as it felt like it had, he didn?t care. Looking down he saw that his arms were firmly casted in thin, sturdy fiber-plex. The cast on his left arm spanned from his wrist to just below his shoulder, holding his elbow in a half-bent position. The one on his right arm encompassed only his forearm, leaving his elbow free to move. Probing the limbs more closely Qui-Gon realized that the broken bones had been set and cell-bonded to hasten healing.

"Wher-where," Qui-Gon tried to speak and found his lips curiously unresponsive. He supposed that that too was a side effect of whatever the droid had given him.

"You are a guest in the house of the gracious Administrator Verjl Owskar," the droid responded, even though he had not yet finished his question. "No more questions now," the droid continued, preempting any further inquiry on Qui-Gon?s part. "You must rest."

Qui-Gon started to protest, but when the droid saw that her patient was not going to obey her, she clucked her mechanical tongue and pressed a hypodermic to the side of Qui-Gon?s neck.

Swirling blackness pulled Qui-Gon back under once more.
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Comments?

 

Oh c'mon, you're killing me here. More story!!!