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Before - Legends MMM There Is No How -- Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan - one-post

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by ardavenport, Nov 5, 2012.

  1. ardavenport

    ardavenport Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Dec 16, 2004
    Title: There Is No How
    Author: ardavenport
    Timeframe: Before the Saga, during Obi-Wan's apprenticeship
    Genre: Action, Drama, some Mush
    Characters: Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, OC Jedi
    Keywords: Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, the Force
    Summary: Obi-Wan sees a fellow Jedi perform a spectacular feat with the Force and wonders how it happened, but Qui-Gon is dismayed by his apprentice's question.
    Disclaimer: All characters belong to George and Lucasfilm; I’m just playing in their sandbox

    The energy bolts slammed into the wall above, raining debris down onto Yorin, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Taaz Treyu. They ducked down under the hoods of their robes, evading the shower of smoking duracrete chunks, plaster and dust. These droids had learned not to shoot directly at them; too many of them had gone down from their own energy bolts ricocheted from Jedi lightsabers. But their attempt to bring the top of the building down on them was futile. They did not have enough fire power.

    Hearing an ominous groaning of armor grinding against more heavy metaloid, Obi-Wan lifted his head, his grip tight on his lightsaber hilt. Next to him, Taaz, Knight Yorin's Padawan, gasped.

    The top of a super-tank ponderously rose up higher than the wall that protected them. Where had the Ghaszhu gotten that?! Armored, pebbly-gray, the dome of it was followed by an immense turret slowly swivelling in their direction.


    Knight Yorin's lightsaber ignited, bright green in the double sunlight, the large orange primary low on the horizon, the intense bright blue secondary at zenith. Jumping to her feet, lightsaber high, her long spotted ears erect against her black hair, she swept the air with her blade but there was no return fire from the droids that had fallen back. The black hole of the cannon muzzle slowly swung toward her. Obi-Wan felt the Force sweep before it, like a hot breeze. Yorin turned toward them, pointing.

    "Guard the door!"

    Grabbing Taaz's collar, Obi-Wan jumped up and, kicking broken, dismembered droid parts aside, they ran to the archway, his blue lightsaber hissing on. Taaz's green lightsaber joined it. The doors were closed, locked, bolted and shielded, but if the Ghaszhu had gotten a tank to attack the Takkrim central government building from the outside, they already had fighters, perhaps with more heavy weapons, on the inside. But how, he wondered. And why? The Takkrim Council had agreed to most of their demands for autonomy on the system's secondary planet.


    Black hair flying, Yorin leaped up high, flipping in the air before landing on top of the wall, her light brown robe whipping around her stout body. She was only a little shorter than Obi-Wan's sixteen year-old height, but nearly twice as broad in the shoulders. The muzzled of the cannon locked into place, pointed right at Yorin.

    Obi-Wan opened his mouth - -

    - - thunder and heat drove him back, his arms coming up to protect his face, Taaz behind him. But through all that was the Force, radiating down from Yorin like the light fron the blue sun above. Looking up again, Obi-Wan saw the deflected orange and yellow fire of the blast flying away toward the tops of the high buildings around them.

    The cannon roared again.

    This time he saw Yorin swing her saber down, catching the white-hot center of the blast. A round green aura larger than Yorin formed around the line of the blade like a shield, catching the blast and sending it off into another direction.

    The cannon roared again.

    The green lightsaber swung again, sending the blast down onto the body of the tank. Yorin jumped back at the same time as the explosion, flares shooting upward from the tank below. The dome of the tank descended and vanished, leaving only an enormous trail of black smoke that dimmed the burning blue dot of a sun above.

    "Obi-Wan!" Taaz's high voice called at the same time as he whirled around. The door!

    A sharp pain burned across his thigh and he dropped his lightsaber, hilt clicking as it bounced on the durcrete terrace, the blue blade going out. Taaz's green lightsaber blade caught the next red energy bolts. The shield was off, the door opened, just enough to allow a black blaster muzzle to poke out.


    The heat of the Force swelled inside him; the pain vanished. Obi-Wan's lightsaber flew up into his waiting hand and he joined Taaz deflecting the bolts coming through the opening in the door. It was a little wider. Two blaster muzzles extended from the opening, spitting red fire at them. Obi-Wan could see the faces of the Ghaszhu loyalists. He recognized one, a guard with Councilor Urridit's group, gray hair, darker gray skin, almost no chin and dark glaring eyes.


    Yorin shouted over the gunfire and she landed in front of Taaz. With one stride she slashed downward, slicing off the ends of the blasters. Sparking, the weapons dropped to the ground. Obi-Wan and Taaz ran to take positions on either side of the partially opened door, Obi-Wan on the right, Yorin and Taaz on the left, lightsabers up and humming.

    Voices, muffled by the heavy doors, competed with the rising background of fighting getting closer. Obi-Wan sensed anger, frustration, determination, but little fear.

    "Where's that heavy gun?!"

    "I've lost contact with Pakcho!"

    Their surprise attack was failing. The Ghaszhu were a minority who mistakenly thought of themselves as the majority. Proud, disciplined and honest, they still had a knack for alienating those not in their caste and they rigidly found few worthy of joining them on equal terms. The betrayal of this attack was a surprise that would have to be sorted out after it was put down.

    "Agon!" someone called from inside. He was a senior member of the negotiating team, on the Ghaszhu's elected council. Obi-Wan heard the tone of Agon's voice speaking back to the caller but not the words. The ambush was not going well. The sounds of fighting got closer.

    Voices hushed, an argument broke out behind the doors. They were losing ground; government security troops were approaching. But they could hear the lightsaber hum just beyond their only door of escape and no one was willing to be first.

    "Surrender!" Yorin called out, back to the door, her dark brown eyes toward the building, her round green cheeks pale and darkly spotted next to her long thick black hair. "Throw out your weapons and you won't be harmed!"

    "We petition for amnesty from the Council!" It was Morlu, the head of the Ghaszhu negotiating team.

    "I don't have the authority to grant you amnesty."

    "Then you have nothing for us."

    Yorin raised her voice. "The Jedi can petition for your amnesty! If you surrender peacefully." She dipped her bright green blade, down and up, across the opening."You have no escape. It will go better for you if you surrender here."

    The sounds of battle had stopped. They heard pounding and shouting behind another barrier inside. Obi-Wan thought he recognized his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, among them, calling for the former attackers, former negotiators to surrender.

    The pounding eventually silenced. Listening carefully, Obi-Wan only heard the ominous hum of their lightsabers and movement of the people trapped inside. They were calmer, but still fiercely frustrated. The breeze over the terrace smelled significantly fresher, less of singed metal and burning plastoids; the light from the suns brightened as the smoke cleared. Taaz peered around Yorin; she was the same species as her Master, with pale green skin, but her short hair was dark brown and she had dark bluish spots on her forehead and chin as well as her cheeks. And being a year younger than Obi-Wan, her Padawan's braid was a bit shorter.

    A hand blaster came flying out of the opening. Followed by more side arms and then large heavy fire blasters. And recharge packs, bouncing and clattering from the black pile of weapons. Someone in the room called out that they were surrendering, but not to the Jedi outside, to the Takkrim security forces at the door inside. They heard it opening.

    Yorin sighed, closing her eyes. Her lightsaber went out; Taaz and Obi-Wan extinguished theirs as well. Letting the Force go, Obi-Wan felt the burn on his thigh flare back into his attention. It was not too bad since he could still stand on it, but the near-miss seared into his flesh. Putting a hand over it, he felt the burnt fabric, the tight tender skin underneath. He on the door, taking his weight off his injured leg.

    "You're injured." Clipping her saber to the wide brown belt around her wide middle, Yorin went to him.

    "It's not serious."

    Brushing her hand past his leg, she nodded. "No, it's not. But don't stand on it." She grasped his arm and guided him to sit on the ground, back to the door. "Taaz, go get Master Qui-Gon."

    Taaz, who was stout and busty like her Master, was still just small enough to squeeze through the opening in the doors. There was a lot of noise inside, the Ghaszhu being rounded up and taken into custody, but the confrontations were only verbal. A few moments later Obi-Wan felt the door behind him move a little with a grinding sound. Qui-Gon emerged and knelt next to Yorin to examine the wound, his long brown hair hanging down over his shoulders.

    "I was distracted, Master. I have no excuse." He lowered his eyes.

    "A costly mistake," Qui-Gon agreed, nodding. "But not a fatal one." Hand on Obi-Wan's knee, his tone lightened a moment before he turned to Yorin. "The negotiations are ended."

    "I told them that we would petition for amnesty if they surrendered peacefully."

    A shouted insult from inside told them that the surrender was not completely peaceful, but there were still no sounds of fighting as the room emptied, the Ghaszhu being taken away.

    Qui-Gon sighed and nodded. "We can ask, but I would not expect a rational response for at least a day. The Takkrim are very angry. The Ghaszhu were apparently so convinced of the righteousness of their cause that they took for granted that the local populace would support their insurrection." Qui-Gon looked up at the building, toward the Council chambers, the smooth tan outer wall burned and pockmarked. "It is fortunate that their heavy weapons failed or there would have been far more loss of life."

    "Master Yorin destroyed the tank, Master," Obi-Wan exclaimed, finally able to express his complete amazement at what he had witnessed. "She deflected the blasts from the cannon."

    Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose and he turned to Yorin. She shrugged with a smile. "The Force was with me."

    With a smile back, her fellow Master agreed. "Indeed it was." Then he sighed. "But we must now deal with the aftermath - - "

    "Master," Obi-Wan interrupted. "She deflected the blasts with her lightsaber." Both of them looked at him now. "It was a truly heroic act." His eyes looked up at Yorin, who was not even a full Master, Taaz being her first Padawan of only a few years. "I did not realize that was possible," he went on. Surely a blow like that should be recognized in the Jedi Archives. "Even Master Qui-Gon - - "


    His attention snapped back to his own Master and the sudden harsh tone in his voice. Qui-Gon pinned him with his glare for a moment before turning back toYorin. He bowed his head to her.

    "My apologies. I have failed my Padawan very badly."

    Lowering her eyes, she inclined her head back. "That is unfortunate. I believe the medical droid can tend his injuries back at the ship. I can speak to the Takkrim for us if you wish to return him there."


    "But - - "

    "Obi-Wan." Again his Master's tone silenced him. Behind the two older Jedi, Taaz's mouth gaped open in surprise. He was only slightly reassured to know that he was not the only one there who did not understand what he'd done wrong. And why he should not speak about what an amazing thing Yorin had done.

    "Master?" Taaz high voice began.

    Yorin held a hand up without looking back at her. "We will discuss this later, Padawan."

    She nodded, a tiny little dip of her head, but her eyes cast sympathy toward Obi-Wan.

    Rising, Qui-Gon, stepped over Obi-Wan's legs and then knelt again, his arms sliding under his apprentice's legs and behind his back. Standing, he lifted Obi-Wan up in his arms.

    "I will return when I can."

    The door was just wide enough for Qui-Gon to get through carrying him. Most of the people were gone, but a Council aide remained to thank the Jedi for their service. Qui-Gon politely accepted and asked for a transport back to the spaceport.

    Obi-Wan remained still in his Master's arms as they rode the lift down. He was sure he could walk, though it would be painful. But Qui-Gon's admonishment meant that he was not to speak until his Master was ready to speak to him and that was obviously not until they reached the ship. Head reading against Qui-Gon's chest, he wondered again what he had done wrong. Had he been too effusive of Yorin's accomplishment? Jedi never bragged about their abilities; but Qui-Gon's response implied that he had done something much worse than that.

    When they reached the ground floor, the aide and two guards who had accompanied them down led the way to a side entrance. The promised transport was waiting, a shiny black speeder with a closed canopy. One of the guards took the front driver's seat while Qui-Gon lowered Obi-Wan to the back seat and then got in himself on the other side next to him. The door slid shut, the canopy closing, instantly cutting off the post-battle clean-up noises. With only the gentlest shifts in acceleration, the guard lifted up into the traffic levels and the speeder zoomed toward the spaceport.

    Closing his eyes and inhaling, Obi-Wan cleared his mind. No matter what his offense, Qui-Gon would have him meditate about it. . . . but he couldn't.

    Clearing his mind only reinforced his awareness of the black cloud sitting next to him. His Master was very disturbed by what he had done, as if he had violated the Jedi Code itself. But there was nothing in the Code that said that one could not speak at all about heroic acts. And deflecting a cannon blast with nothing but a single lightsaber was surely heroic. The Archives and Annals of the Jedi Order were full of them. He knew that his own Master, when he was much younger, had once used the Force to hold an entire building from collapse until the people inside were all evacuated.

    The speeder slowed, passing by the loading gates and going directly to the side of their ship. They had arrived in a diplomatic cruiser with the authority of the Galactic Senate to accommodate the planetary senator and his staff in the style that they were accustomed. Violence had not been expected though the negotiating parties were thoroughly hostile to each other. The Jedi had been added to the team. Just in case.

    As soon as the speeder stopped, Obi-Wan hit the door control and painfully climbed out. When Qui-Gon came around to his side, he stood at attention. He would not object to being carried, but he wanted show that he did not need it.

    Qui-Gon silently inclined his head, and gestured for him to proceed, a completely neutral response. Limping, Obi-Wan went to the entry ramp. His leg hurt a lot now.

    A shiny silver Senatorial protocol droid greeted them. "Master Jedi, may I be of service?"

    Qui-Gon spoke over his head. "My Padawan has been injured. Please inform the Med-Center that we are coming."

    "Of course." The droid inclined its head, backing away.

    By the time they arrived the Med Center was active, lights on, the medical droid waiting for them. Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan out of his robe and lifted him up onto the examination table. The droid introduced itself as CR-48.

    Staring up at the examination lights and sensors, Obi-Wan ignored the droid as it worked except to move and turn when it asked. Qui-Gon answered the questions about the type of injure and when it happened. CR-48 numbed the area around the blaster burn, cut away the pant leg, cleaned and bandaged it.

    His back turned away from droid and his apprentice, Qui-Gon studied a lighted medical display. The air in the room was sterile with artificial freshness.

    When it was finished, CR-48 had Obi-Wan sit up and stand. There was no nerve damage, but the medical droid told him to refrain from any heavy exercise and return the next day to have the dressing changed.

    Feeling a touch on his shoulder, Obi-Wan quickly turned and looked up at Qui-Gon who picked up his robe and thanked the droid. They left together.

    Finally returning to their shared stateroom, Qui-Gon put Obi-Wan's robe on the table by the view port and then added his own robe to it. It was one of the smaller stateroom, with bunks on either side, shelves, a table in the middle with two chairs. The room was completely symmetrical in gray and blue, with an utterly neutral atmosphere smelling faintyly of synthetic fabric. Yorin and Taaz shared one exactly like it except in green and gold. Obi-Wan started to lower himself to one of the two round cushions they had placed on the floor for their morning meditation, but Qui-Gon stopped him.

    "Sit in the chair for now, until your leg is healed." He pulled a chair out, away from the table so it faced the cushions. Obi-Wan lowered himself into it. Taking one blue cushion and pushing the other aside, Qui-Gon sat cross-legged on it and faced him. Then he bowed low, his forehead almost touching the ground.

    "I have failed you, my Padawan."

    Obi-Wan shook his head. "I do not see how." It was the first time he had spoken since leaving the Takkrim government building.

    Qui-Gon sat back and sighed. "That is my failing."

    Obi-Wan had been prepared to apologize for being dis-respectful, or un-mindful or whatever it was that he had done. That generally worked with Qui-Gon when they had serious disagreements. Obi-Wan would let some time pass before apologizing. Qui-Gon would always amiably accept; and not often, but sometimes, change his mind. But this was much worse. He did not know what to say. When a Padawan failed in something it was always the Master who had failed first.

    "Tell me what you saw Knight Yorin do."

    When they first became aware of the attack, when the power was cut off and the negotiation room in the highest floor of the government building isolated, Qui-Gon had warned the others to stay. He shattered a window overlooking the city and he and Qui-Gon leaped from it down to the terrace below while Yorin and Taaz went down on the inside. The two women sealed the accesses to the upper floors and the highest levels of the Takkrim government, keeping out the Ghaszhus, except the terrace where they met. Qui-Gon told them to defend it while he jumped down to the next level terrances to get reinforcements.

    Soon after he was gone. they were attacked by Ghaszhu droids. Three Jedi quickly sliced them to scrap, but another group on a second terrace of the building pinned them down. Then the tank appeared and Knight Yorin challenged it alone.

    "What did you feel when she deflected the cannon blasts, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon sat up straight, his head back, eyes closed.

    Obi-Wan described the heat and intensity of the Force in that moment, so strong he felt as if he could have lept up there and deflected the cannon blasts himself. "I have never felt the Force so strongly, Master. I did not know that Yorin was so powerful, that she could do such a thing."

    A stricken expression passed over Qui-Gon's face and Obi-Wan realized what he was saying. "I did not mean that Knight Yorin would be a better teacher - - "

    "No, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon's raised hand stopped his tumble of words. The hand slowly lowered. Qui-Gon's lightsaber un-clipped from his belt, rose and turned, emitter end upward, until it hung in the air before the older Jedi.

    "Is what Knight Yorin did really so much more powerful than this, my Padawan? Somehow better?"

    Better? No. Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes still on the lightsaber suspended in air.

    It was a simple mediation exercise, they often did it together. But the Force for this felt like a comfortable, familiar warmth, not the hot blast of wind that had deflected a cannon blast.

    "It was . . . so much larger, Master, larger than any exercise you have taught me." He flinched, not wanting to imply that Qui-Gon's teachings were lacking. "I have never heard of any kind of training for deflecting energy so powerful." There were things that only Jedi Knights and Jedi Masters knew. Was there some unspoken training for weilding such immense power? And was he ready for it?

    Is size so important?" Qui-Gon's opened his eyes to gaze calmly at his lightsaber.

    "No, Master," he answered automatically. That was a lesson taught by all the Masters, from Yoda on down.

    "Are you sure?"

    The Force was infinitely powerful. Anything was possible with it. That was what he had been taught all his life. But he had not experienced it so undeniably until that day. And in the Jedi Temple, they generally did not train on things larger than a battle droid, either.

    He kept hesitating and Qui-Gon kept patiently waiting for his reply.

    "No, Master."

    "Then, I would say that you have something to meditate about." Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his bearded face relaxed and calm.

    "Yes, Master."

    He waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. The lightsaber slowly revolved, silver and black, emitter pointed at the ceiling, red ignition switch passing by with each rotation.

    Qui-Gon's eye snapped open. His hand shot out, catching the hilt as it fell. His dark blue eyes focused on it and he seemed . . . . satisfied. Though Obi-Wan was fairly certain it was not anything he had done.

    Getting up, Qui-Gon clipped the saber to he belt. Then he reached down and removed Obi-Wan's from his belt and handed it to him, pommel first.

    "Meditate on what we have discussed. Meditate on what you felt when you saw Yorin deflect the cannon blast."

    Nodding, Obi-Wan took the lightsaber.

    "Remember that the Force guides the Jedi, as much as the Jedi calls on it for strength. And that Jedi do not weild power for its own sake. That is a path only to the Dark Side. Yorin needed to stop the attack, and the Force guided her actions as much as she drew on its strength. She did not choose her actions; she simply acted." He picked up his robe from the table. "And meditate on why you are so . . . distracted by what she did. Do you want to know how she did it? So you can as well?"

    Qui-Gon paused, but answered his questions before Obi-Wan could make the attempt.

    "If you draw on the Force to act, you will act. There is no how." Going to the door he put the robe on.

    "I must return to the negotiations. Such as they are," he amended. "We will discuss this when I return." He left, the door sliding shut behind him. Obi-Wan sat there, alone.

    Obi-Wan slumped back in his chair with a huge exhale. He still did not know what he had done wrong, but it was bothering Qui-Gon less now. He would learn. And from Qui-Gon's initial reaction, it was something very important, something he needed to know.

    He held up his lightsaber. He had made it himself and often used it as a meditation focus. He ran a fingernail into the hairline grove of a scratch from an encounter with Cralugan mercenaries. There were a couple of dents from when it had impacted after he lost his grip. Both times Qui-Gon had admonished him for losing it.

    Running a hand over the bandage on his leg and the bare skin around it, he wondered if he should get a new pair of pants from one of the steward droids since he only had one pant leg. He decided he would and he tapped the call-com. It was a diplomatic ship and they would have spare clothes in its stores.

    The droid arrived almost immediately. Its white, backlit eye sensors blinked as it tilted its head one way, then the other and it asked if Obi-Wan was particular about the color. He said no. The pants would be replaced as soon as he returned to the Jedi Temple anyway. The droid left and Obi-Wan took his boots off, putting them aside under the bunk. He did not want to start his meditation and then be interrupted by the droid, so he activated his lightsaber and went through a few exercises. His thumb touched the activation switch.


    Up. Slash. Pull back. Slash across. Back. Back. Forward.

    Up. Slash. Pull back. Slash across. Back. Back. Forward.

    Up. Slash. Pull back. Slash across. Back. Back. Forward.

    Lightsaber exercises were an active form of light meditaton. And with each move he felt the Force growing stronger, larger, as the room grew smaller with familiarity. But there was no worry that he would touch or damage anything. The room was exactly as large as it needed to be, the Force guiding each sweep of the bright blue blade.

    Up. Slash. Pull back. Slash across. Back. Back. Forward.

    Up. Slash. Pull back. Slash across. Back. Back. Forward.

    Up. Slash. Pull back. Slash across. Back. Back. Forward.


    He froze, realizing that he was in the same pose that Knight Yorin had taken when she confronted the tank. . .

    The room faded around him and he saw the great, evil black maw of a blaster cannon, as wide as his body. Ignition flashed in its depths. The Force turned hot, a furnace wind taking him.

    His saber went off as he dove for the deck and huddled, crouched on hands and knees. Breathing hard, he hardly needed to release the Force; it cooled and whooshed away as quickly as it it had flared up. What had happened?

    The door chimed and he jumped, his body shooting upright, still on his knees on the deck.

    Getting up, went to the door and opened it. The droid had returned with a pair of maroon pants, the same color that the crew wore. He thanked the machine and closed the door on its offer of further assistance.

    Holding the pants up, he judged them a passable fit. After taking off his damaged pants and stowing them with his boots, he put them on; they were a little loose, but they fit comfortably over his bandaged leg. He picked up his lightsaber up off the bunk and held it up?

    Sitting down on the bunk, he placed the saber on his knees. Closing his eyes, clearing his thoughts, he straightened, feeling the life Force of his own body extending to the lightsaber. It slowly rose in the air, turning end over end in the air until stopping at eye level, emitter pointed upward.

    Images slowly formed from featureless moving shapes to bright blades, green and blue, slashing and lunging. A long line of Padawans training in a great, columned room in the Jedi Temple, yellowed light streaming down from tall artificial windows. The Masters paced before them, behind the remotes, randomly shooting at the students. Nobody was being hit. Everyone was focused. A remote dived to his left and he blocked the energy bolt from it. The person on his left smiled at him.

    It was Yorin. She wasn't a Padawan. What was she doing there?

    The Force flowed down through Obi-Wan to his saber like warm sunlight.


    The droids went down, the room faded to black and then faded into gray. Real sunlight streamed down on Obi-Wan, all the remotes circled above his head, tall shadowy Masters in robes circled outside his bright circle of light. The Force poured down through him, hot rays of the Force connecting him to everything around him. The remotes fired faster and faster, but he caught every needle sharp energy bolt with ease, with no thought, the Force guiding his motions, calm and effortless. He whirled . . . .

    . . . a gaping black circle faced him, somewhere down in its depths an orange ignition flash illuminated Yorin's face, her mouth open, eyes wild, the Force flowing out from her to him.


    His lightsaber banged on his knees as it fell to thump on the floor.

    Breathing hard, Obi-Wan stared at the plain stateroom, pale gray bulkheads, blue covered bunk opposite him.

    That was it. The same feeling, the Force flowing through him, powerful enough to swat aside a cannon blast. That was what Yorin had felt. He was sure of it.

    Looking toward the viewport, he saw the small blue sun hanging over the horizon, long cold blue shadows partially stretched across the spaceport field. Much more time had passed than he thought. He stood; the burn under his bandage hurt a bit, itched a little, but otherwise it was fine. Qui-Gon had not actually told him to stay, just to meditate. He had done that and now he needed to speak to his Master about it.

    Grabbing his robe, he left the cabin. There was no one in the corridor as he strode down to the lift to the lower level. When the door slid aside, he saw the blue 'Open' light flashing. Was Qui-Gon returning? He hurried down the corridor, turned left and started down the ramp. Some people were there on the ramp, a group with their backs to him.

    Obi-Wan stopped, halfway down to them.

    " - - you can't escape. Let Senator Lazem go!" Deputy Bokor, the head negotiator for the Takkrim boomed out.

    "When we are away," Councilor Urridit answered; he had been a soldier before becoming a politician and now he had his back to Obi-Wan who could see over his shoulders the head of aonther man, his hostage, and a blaster. "We do not wish to harm anyone - - "

    "Traitor! Deciever!" a voice shouted out from a large crowd that faced the small group of Ghaszhus on the ramp. Obi-Wan saw his Master and Knight Yorin, lightsabers in hand, bright green blades ready, at the head the group of security and negotiators held back from the base of the ramp by the threat to Senator Lazem.

    The Force flowed down through Obi-Wan, hot and poweful - - -

    - - - he dove down to the ramp and huddled, hood falling down over his head, completely covered by his robe - - -

    - - - the group on the ramp continued to back up - - -

    - - - Obi-Wan felt the backs of Urridit's legs colliding into his side - - -


    A body fel. backward over him. Another rolled over his rump and somebody fell hard on the landing field below.


    The vibrating whine of mass stunners washed through the air, but it passed over him with barely a tickle, diminished and absorbed completely by the vastly greater heat of the Force.

    Voices called out, footsteps pounded at the base of the ramp. Cautiously, Obi-Wan lifted his hood up off his head. Security people dragged unconscious Ghaszhus away from the ship. Standing and peering over the side, other members of the Takkrim carefully helped Senator Lazem up from where he had apparently thrown himself off the ramp. Lazem swore and cursed the Ghaszhu ancestors.

    Exhaling, Obi-Wan's whole body relaxed as the Force flowed away, a cooling passage from the heat of the moment. Then he hopped aside to allow Councilor Urridit's body to be dragges away with the others. Qui-Gon and Yorin, their lightsabers back on their belts again, wove around the security people up the ramp. Obi-Wan hastily straightened his robe.

    "Haha!" Yorin laughed, looking him up and down. "Not a scratch. I am impressed, Padawan." Behind her, Taaz gaped up at him in awe, her ears perked up.

    "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon laid a supportive hand on his shoulder. The older Jedi's dark blue eyes were very bright with hope. Obi-Wan grinned back up at him.

    "The Force was with me, Master."

    ### ### ### END ### ### ###
    Jade_eyes likes this.
  2. Alexis_Wingstar

    Alexis_Wingstar Jedi Master star 4

    Sep 16, 2006
    This was really good. Not exactly mushy in the conventional sense, but I've never been one to stand on convention. I like how this is kind of a take off of Yoda's, "Do or do not, there is no try." Or, not actually a take off, but an extension.
  3. Luna_Nightshade

    Luna_Nightshade Manager Emeritus star 5 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Jan 25, 2006
    ;) Love Obi-Wan's last statement, and the way you showed Qui-Gon's leadership and also relationship with young Obi-Wan. You also write the description of war and battle very well--feels like a Clone War episode. Great vignette!