Джуд Уотсон - Jedi Apprentice 3: The Hidden Past

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.

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 consequence. 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.

Qui-Gon leaped down from the crate. With one stroke she sliced through three droids. Their metallic heads clattered to the floor and rolled. Their bodies twitched, puzzled, the collapsed.

Obi-Wan cut through the first droid on his right, then used his momentum to twist and roll into the legs of a second. The droid wobbled, trying to aim as Obi-Wan sliced through its spindly legs with his lightsaber. As soon as the droid fell, Obi-Wan dealt a blow to the control panel on its chest. The droid collapsed, inoperative.

But Obi-Wan was already moving on to the next and the next, and the next. He could sense Qui-Gon's movements behind him, and knew that Qui-Gon was driving the droids back toward the crumbling wall of the landing platform. Fighting, slicing, always moving, Obi-Wan was able to reach the outer flank of the droids, allowing him to drive them back to where Qui-Gon wanted them.

There were only four droids left standing when the Jedi were able to maneuver them against the wall. Working in tandem, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan avoided the constant blaster fire and, with a sudden movement, rushed the droids, slicing through their jointed legs. The four collapsed in a heap, and Qui-Gon attacked again, making sure they were down for good.

He turned to look at Obi-Wan. His blue eyes gleamed.

"So they weren't escorts," he said. "I was wrong. It happens."

"I'll remember that," he said with a grin.

Qui-Gon twisted, searching the hanger with a frown. "Where's that blasted Pilot?"

The Phindian was gone.

Qui-Gon strode back up the ramp into the ship. The control console had been disabled, hit by blaster fire.

"They must have ordered a droid to do that while the rest were fighting," Qui-Gon said with a frown. "Now we can't take off again."

Qui-Gon reached for his comlink. He pressed the coordinates to reach Yoda, but nothing happened. "Communications must be jammed on this world," he murmured. "Obviously, they don't want interference."

"What should we do, Master?" Obi-Wan asked.

"We need to talk to Pilot," Qui-Gon answered.

"But how will we find him?"

Qui-Gon's mouth tightened. "Don't worry. He'll find us."

They left the landing platform and followed a narrow, twisting street into the heart of the city. Qui-Gon directed Obi-Wan to raise his hood to cover his face.

"We must be on Phindar," Qui-Gon murmured. "All those we've passed have been Phindians, and I know we're close to Gala. This is Probably Laressa, their capital city. I do not think there are many alien people on this world. We must try not to attract attention. Keep your arms inside your cloak."

Obi-Wan obeyed him. "But Master, why do you say Pilot will find us? How do you know?"

"Landing here was no accident, Obi-Wan."

It seemed like a complete accident to Obi-Wan, but he knew better than to say so. Instead he turned his attention to his surroundings. He was not distracted now. He forgot it was his birthday, forgot everything but watching how his Master moved through the streets. As they grew closer to the center of the city and the streets grew more crowded, Qui-Gon changed. Usually, the Jedi Master's bearing alone commanded attention. He was a large, powerfully built man and he moved with grace.

But on this planet, Qui-Gon moved differently. He lost what made him unique and shuffled along with the crowd. Obi-Wan watched, and learned. He, too, matched his pace to those around him. He glanced at what they glanced at, looked away, kept his eyes ahead, all with the rhythm of the passerby. He saw that Qui-Gon was doing the same. The look of fierce attention was gone from Qui-Gon's gaze, but Obi-Wan knew he was taking in everything.

Phindar was a strange world. The people were dressed simply, and Obi-Wan could see that their clothes had been mended many times. Readout signs in shops announced in scrolling type NOTHING TODAY or CLOSED UNTIL SHIPMENT. Phindians would glance at the signs, sigh, and plod on further, their market baskets empty. Lines formed outside shuttered shops, as if the Phindians were willing to chance that they would open soon.

Assassin droids were everywhere, their joints clicking, heads rotating. On the muddy, unpaved street, gleaming silver landspeeders zoomed by with no regard for traffic rules or pedestrians attempting to cross.

A current ran between the people, and Obi-Wan reached out with the Force to meet and understand it. What was the feeling?

"Fear," Qui-Gon remarked quietly. "It's everywhere."

A groups of three Phindians dressed in full-length metallic silver coats suddenly appeared on the walkway. They strode, shoulder to shoulder, their dark visors swallowing up the sunlight. The other Phindians quickly moved off the walkway into the muddy road. Obi-Wan's steps faltered, astonished. The people had moved so quickly and without thought, stepping into the mud with a reaction born of habit. The silver-coated Phindians didn't falter, but took charge of the walkway as if it were their right.

Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a hard tug on his cape, and quickly they both stepped off the paved walkway into the muddy street. The silver-coated men marched by.

As soon as they passed, the other Phindians, without a word, climbed back onto the paved walkway. Once again, they began the process of looking into shops, then turning away when they saw there was nothing for sale.

"Do you notice anything strange about some of them?" Qui-Gon murmured. "Look at their faces."

Obi-Wan gazed into the faces of the passersby. He saw resignation, desperation. But slowly he realized that on some faces he saw… nothing. There was a strange blankness in their eyes.

"Something is not right here," Qui-Gon remarked softly. "It is more than fear."

Suddenly, a large gold landspeeder screamed around a corner. The Phindians in the street scurried to safety, and the others on the walkway shrank back against the buildings.

Obi-Wan felt the dark side of the Force shimmer outward from the gold speeder. With a slight touch to his shoulder, Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan to withdraw silently and quickly. They faded back into an alley and watched the speeder blast by.

A silver-coated driver was at the controls. In the back were two figures. They wore long coats of gold. The Phindian woman had lovely orange eyes shot through with gold the color of her coat. The male next to her was larger than most, with the long, powerful arms of the Phindian people. He did not wear a mirrored visor, and his small, bronze-colored eyes swept the street arrogantly.

Obi-Wan didn't need a Temple lesson in order to pay attention. His senses were on alert. Qui-Gon was right. Something was very wrong. Every detail he had seen told him so. Evil was at work here.

The gold speeder zoomed around the corner, nearly hitting a child who was being frantically pulled along by her mother. Obi-wan stared after the speeder, incredulous.

"Come, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "Let's go to the market."

They crossed the street into a large plaza. It was an open-air market like ones Obi-wan had seen on Bandomeer and Coruscant. Only here, there were plenty of stalls, but nothing for sale. Some scraps of metal, fit for nothing. A few rotten vegetables.