WOUNDED WARRIOR

by ardavenport

- - - Part 1

"This way! This way!"

Voices repeated the command, while others shouted demanding to be told more. Obi-Wan did not hear his Master's voice amidst the panicky tumult, but he could feel his hand under his shoulder, grasping a handful of robe and carrying him with the others. But all he could see were the bodies around him, arms and clinched hands. No faces. His robe supported most of his body, though he could feel the weaknesses threatening to tear under his weight and smell the burned fabric. The legs of the people carrying him jostled his body as the mob moved out of the open meeting hall into an enclosed darker space.

Hands clutched his legs and boots and brushed against his left foot, the one part of him that was injured. Obi-Wan sucked in air through his teeth, a slicing sound, like the pain. His foot was still there, he was sure of that, but the intense burn went deep, as if his flesh had been fused to the sole of his boot.

They bumped and shuffled into a better lit room with natural, outside light reflected on the ceiling. Though he was twenty-two years of age, he was not very large (certainly not by Qui-Gon's standard) but a dozen people had rushed to carry him anyway.

"Over here! Over here!" The command echoed between the bearers along with several, 'easy's, 'careful's and 'all right's. Qui-Gon remained silent, but when Obi-Wan was laid on a soft, padded surface it was his Master's hands that cradled his head.

Long strands of dull brown hair touched his cheek and he caught a glimpse of dark blue eyes looking down at him and the hint of a smile. Qui-Gon knew he was not hurt badly.

"Give him air! Give him air!" a meeting hall official pushed the crowd back. The would-be helpers were reluctant to give up their minimally positive role as if they were seeking absolution for their calls for violence only moments before.

Obi-Wan lay on a full body recliner next to a wide window in what appeared to be an office. The recliner was not properly adjusted to his height and the rumply folds of his damaged and singed robe jabbed him. Faint wisps of smoke still rose from his left boot. The smell of burnt fabric and plastoids intensified.

Obi-Wan looked upward to scan the worried faces.

"Out of the way! Out of the way!" Senator Bladdos and his aide, Mainuz, pushed through with a small, pretty woman in a blue and yellow striped suit and carrying a matching blue and yellow case with a large silver triangle on the side. Obi-Wan lifted his head for a better look, but his Master's large hand gently pressed it back down on the cushion. Then the second hand loosened the Padawan's lock on the back of his head.

"Get people out," the woman demanded, her voice carrying strongly over noise around her. "And chair for me, for sit on." Two uniformed meeting hall officials enthusiastically drove out the crowd. The bodies shuffled out with heads still turned, their gazes still clinging to Obi-Wan.

His forehead warm under his Master's hand; Obi-Wan felt an increasing detachment from his wound. It still seared his flesh, but it no longer overwhelmed all his senses. Breathing deeply, Obi-Wan pushed away his embarrassment over needing his Master's help with such a limited injury. He heard Qui-Gon's voice close to his ear. He closed his eyes. . . .

Obi-Wan started. The broad dark brown back of Qui-Gon's robe bent over his leg which was clasped under his Master's arm. Obi-Wan grimaced; the pain was back. The inside of his boot scraped by the injury as Qui-Gon first slowly tugged it loose and then completely off his foot. Obi-Wan breathed deeply and exhaled the pain to the Force, along with his annoyance at his Master. Qui-Gon's influence with the Force was very strong.

His boot came off and Qui-Gon held it up. The end was black and burned all the way through. It was ruined. The woman in the blue and yellow striped suit bent over his foot, now resting on a square, white pillow. Obi-Wan looked around. The Senator and others were gone. The door of the office they were in was closed. The three of them were alone.

Sniff.

Obi-Wan watched the woman put her petite nose right next to his foot and sniff again. The toe of his sock was singed black, curled and charred. Still keeping her nose to his foot, she reached up and began pulling the sock off. She rolled it up carefully at the end. It stuck in a few places, the tugging on his burns magnifying the searing pain as if the flesh were about to be pealed away. But Obi-Wan remained still, not even allowing himself a reflex flinch, having distanced himself now from the injury.

She pulled the remains of the sock away and tossed it aside.

Sniff, sniff.

The woman sniffed around his foot from all angles and then part way up his leg. Then she reached into the case that Qui-Gon now held open for her and pulled out a blue bulb with a long silver needle protruding from it. His eyes fixed on his Master, Obi-Wan kept still as she plunged the needle into his foot.

Immediately cool numbness spread outward from where she pulled out the needle. It a moment the numbness froze out the pain completely. It was not a very selective anesthetic. His entire foot felt like a bloated lifeless weight at the end of his partially deadened leg.

With Qui-Gon silently holding her case of instruments the woman began cleaning his injury. With the soot and bits of sock cleaned away Obi-Wan could see that most of the damage was to the big toe on his left foot. The toenail was still there but the skin around it was black, red and blistered. The woman worked swiftly, her small nimble fingers pointing a humming silver cylinder at some places and spreading bacta gel in others. She dabbed with fluffy white absorbers and they came away bright red with blood.

The procedure was over in minutes with the healer applying a final bacta patch and winding a thick gauze wrapping around his toe to hold it in place. She tossed her implements into the case, took it from Qui-Gon and closed it with a snap. She sniffed around his toe again and stared down the length of Obi-Wan's body at his face. She had large brown eyes and a small dainty mouth with full lips that here puckered with concentration. Crouching and coming around the recliner, she began sniffing up his leg again with Qui-Gon stepping out of her way and folding his arms as he watched.

The woman proceeded up the leg to his body, taking good long sniffs of his stomach and chest. She paused to grasp both his hands and push her nose close to his palms and wrists. Then she went to his neck and ears. Even face to face with her, Obi-Wan never felt like she was even looking at him, just examining the body that she had been assigned to heal.

After one long sniff to the top of his head, her nose poking in his hair, she finally straightened.

"Is good," she announced in a deep resonant voice, her hand resting on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Thank-you," Qui-Gon answered in his own masculinely resonant tone.

The door to the office opened and Senator Bladdos hurried in. He stopped, the door sliding shut behind him. His eyes went from Qui-Gon to the woman in blue and yellow stripes, to Obi-Wan and finally to his foot on its pillow and his bandaged toe, the white wrapping making it twice its normal size.

"Is that it?" Bladdos demanded. He was broad-shouldered, silver-haired and pink-cheeked, a stately Human politician with a loud clear voice. Bladdos stepped forward, glaring down at Obi-Wan's toe with disgust.

"From the holos you'd have thought he was cut to pieces by those blasters. They're thinking that right now. Practically groveling over the disgrace of it. If I show them this now, they're going to laugh," he snarled. He turned on the woman accusingly.

"There's got to be something else. Trauma. Shock. Maybe blinded by flash burns? You're a healer, what have you got?"

Obi-Wan's gray-blue eyes widened at the suggestions, but the warning glare from Qui-Gon behind Bladdos's back prompted him to stay silent.

"Nothing for you," the woman spoke back, her voice threatening, her small hand squeezing Obi-Wan's shoulder hard. "Nothing for those pretender defenders out there. Groveling they should be to be even near true warriors such as these." She looked toward Qui-Gon, her expression admiring and then, releasing Obi-Wan's shoulder, she laid her hand on his head and stroked his hair as he looked up at her.

Bladdos's small eyes narrowed with the same cunning expression he had when he cornered the planet's High Minister into accepting Republic representation for the Thalbin moons.

"I can make them grovel," he said, his voice sinking low and seductive. "Make them give up their play-acting at honor and warrior traditions. Squash their vanity and make them heel to their duty." He leaned close to the young healer. She pulled her hand away from Obi-Wan's head and leaned back, her expression at first offended by his suggestions. But it shifted into something more calculating, as if Bladdos's cunning were contagious. She obviously liked what she heard.

"I be silent, while you speak," she finally stated. She put her hand on Bladdos's chest and pushed him back. He grinned.

"Good." He clasped his hands together eagerly.

"You," he turned and pointed at Qui-Gon. "Put that robe back up again and look threatening." Qui-Gon did not move and glowered back, his arms folded before him.

"Like that," Bladdos said making a winding gesture with his hand. "But more ominous." Qui-Gon responded with an exasperated expression and he pulled the hood of his robe up. They stated to leave.

"Wait!" Bladdos stopped them before the door opened. He looked back toward Obi-Wan as if finally noticing him. "We can't leave him alone. It would look bad." He poked a finger into Qui-Gon's chest. The tall Jedi Master was more than a head taller than the arrogant Senator. "Stay here. We'll send a droid. As soon as it gets here, come out and stand in your position behind me. And don't. Say. Anything."

Bladdos swept the healer out with him. The door closed behind them, leaving them alone. Qui-Gon lowered the hood of his robe and sighed.

"We are hear to serve," Obi-Wan reminded him, grinning.

"We are," his Master agreed wearily. He returned to the recliner and sat down on the stool next to it. "And you served very well, my Padawan." He laid his hand on Obi-Wan's arm. Obi-Wan nodded, accepting the praise.

"But I am still wondering, Master. . . .is this really the best way for us to serve?"

"It is the way we are called upon to serve," Qui-Gon answered in a way that Obi-Wan noticed avoided the implied criticism of Senator Bladdos's methods and abrasiveness. So, Obi-Wan addressed it directly.

"But all we have been called upon to do is stand behind people and look intimidating. Is that a proper use for Jedi? For this entire mission Senator Bladdos has treated us like big, dumb muscle. Does he really need Jedi for that?" Obi-Wan had obediently accepted their minimal role, but after the shooting broke out in the conference room, he thought that the time had come to discuss what their purpose should be. He began pulling at the folds of his robe under him.

"It does appear that Jedi were absolutely required today," Qui-Gon pointed out. "I don't think that 'big, dumb muscle' could have saved the ministers from that last outburst." Qui-Gon got up and began helping him take off the robe, taking care to pull Obi-Wan's Padawan's braid free of the fabric first. He slid it off Obi-Wan's arms and shoulders and tugged it out from under him. Then he held it up.

"I would expect that the holos that Senator Bladdos spoke of are quite vivid," Qui-Gon commented about the several charred holes that the blaster bolts had made in the hood and the body of the robe. One partially severed sleeve hung lower than the other and a blackened strip of the hem almost touched the floor.

Obi-Wan looked toward the desk at one end of the office. There was a holo-com on it.

"Perhaps we should see?" he suggested.

Qui-Gon nodded. Putting aside the ruined robe, he went to the desk and retrieved the holo-com, placing it on a stand next to Obi-Wan's recliner. He fiddled with the controls, looking for the public reception channels. Ghostly holo figures flitted in the air over it in transparent, blue-tinged colors.

". . . .and the delegations are sequestered this very minute with Republic envoy Bladdos. We have NOT been allowed inside the proceedings. . . " a pretty male announcer spoke in a rushed, excited tone.

"And we still have no word of the status of the Jedi protectors to Senator Bladdos and his party. We're fairly certain that Master Qui-Gon Jinn escaped unharmed, but the fate of Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi is still unknown. Let's look at that holo-copy again." The announcer stood before the background of the large meeting room where the two Jedi had mutely served Senator Bladdos for the past few days. Outlines of droids, guards and techs scanned and paced the ruined room behind him.

The image scattered into static and then expanded into a wide view of the conference room. The holo-recording started with the Melg minister shouting down the Staretz Confederation ambassador who declared a mortal insult and, along with his whole party, drew his blaster and started shooting from the outer seats. While the recorded violence started, Qui-Gon began helping Obi-Wan adjust the recliner and slide out of his belt and loosen his tunic.

Over the desk, the Obi-Wan image activated his lightsaber. The Qui-Gon image, behind Bladdos, leaped high over the Senator and his assistant and landed in the center of the round conference table, his bright saber blade deflecting blaster bolts as he landed. Obi-Wan defended the people at the table closest to the attack; Qui-Gon defended the ones furthest away. But only a few of the conferrees showed enough sense to flee the target area and take cover. Most of them sat back with offended expressions; a few of them shouted back at the deadly storm of weapons fire. A few others even tried to return fire, but the lightsabers defending them sliced through the muzzles of their blasters with squeals of melted and ruined metal.

A fierce cascade of blaster bolts rained down on the holo-Obi-Wan who spun, blade whirling, robe pierced and blown about by the oncoming fire. Obi-Wan remembered being nearly at his limit, catching and deflecting the deadly energy blasts that would kill, letting go of the ones that would miss and explode against the floor or furniture. Lightsaber blade whirling, the image leapt, jumped and spun, one leg swinging up high.

A blaster bolt exploded with a spectacular white flash on the end of the raised boot less than an arm length in front of Minister Tebb's head. This close explosion finally cued the conferees to duck below the table or to run away from the barrage entirely.

The Obi-Wan image dove forward, rolling to lie flat on the ground while the holo-Qui-Gon ran forward, flipping high off the table and landing with the sweep of two lightsabers as the fallen lightsaber ignited, called to the Master's hand. He miniature Jedi Master continued forward and the scene suddenly shifted to a view from the other side of the room as two whirling blades cut through the blasters and some of the extended limbs holding them.

The blaster fire stopped.

At this point, the real Qui-Gon tugged off the other boot from the real Obi-Wan's uninjured foot.

In the holo, the two small lightsabers hummed ominously in the hands of the tall robed figure, long hair wildly draped over the shoulders and down the back. Smaller holo-figures cringed and moaned around the victorious one. The small transparent Qui-Gon turned around as if in challenge to the others present. The lightsabers went out. Several people began shouting and then shrieking. The Qui-Gon went to the smoking, huddled robe on the ground.

"And in a truly magnificent display of Jedi warrior skills, the Staretz honor challenge - if that is what it can be called - was literally cut short," the announcer resumed his commentary after a burst of static.

"Muran," a holo-head-and-body materialized, apparently sitting at a desk in another location and addressing the pretty announcer. "It looks as if the Surklaff and Melg delegates are in the disgrace bin as well, they were so quickly disarmed by Master Qui-Gon Jinn, not that they were all that swift drawing their weapons in the first place when the shooting started."

"That's right," Muran nodded his pretty face. "They lost their honor weapons pretty quick, and maybe a few fingers as well. We'll all be sure to be counting them later."

"And has there been any word of the condition of Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi?" the seated announcer asked rapidly.

"Nothing so far," Muran said eagerly. "He's still sequestered with his Master, but we've just learned while we were running the holo that a special medical droid has been sent from Senator Bladdos's ship - -"

Qui-Gon clicked the holo com off and sighed. Obi-Wan grinned; Qui-Gon's patience with this world was finally waning.

"You are amused by your situation, My Padawan?" he asked, peering down at Obi-Wan's pillowed foot.

"More by yours, My Master," he responded, his grin broadening. "The holo-facz will be even more aggressive."

"And I shall remain silent. And intimidating. As Senator Bladdos has requested." Qui-Gon smiled. "And I believe that you will be most in demand." Qui-Gon inclined his head and nodded toward the wide windows of the office. Three distant holo-facz droids slowly panned outside like large metallic insects looking for prey. Obi-Wan reflexively kept still even though he knew that the entire building was triple shielded against any intrusive snooper droids.

"But I think to satisfy Senator Bladdos's needs you will not only need to be silent, but also unseen. He seemed quite disappointed that you weren't more seriously injured." Qui-Gon nodded toward Obi-Wan's heavily bandaged toe.

The young man grimaced. "Master, can Senator Bladdos seriously expect to intimidate the delegates into an agreement over this? By such blatant manipulation?"

"I would expect so," Qui-Gon nodded. "And I am heartily glad that he is leading. The delegates are well matched by Senator Bladdos. For all his bluster and abrasiveness, Bladdos has devoted all his energies to this mission; he is a keen observer and quick to take an advantage when he sees one. And his staff is intensely loyal to him; he appears to have earned it. They are all totally committed to the success of these unification talks."

The door to the office slid open. A gold and black medical droid rolled in accompanied by one of Bladdos's minor assistants.

"The droid will stay here," the young Rhodian announced. "And I am to accompany you to the private conference chamber Master Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon sighed, rose and put his hood over his head. Sliding his arms into the opposite sleeves of his robe, he smirked at Obi-Wan before turning toward the assistant. Apparently the Jedi Master's expression was not so benign because the young Rhodian's drew back, his green antennae lowered nervously. Then he recovered, apparently realizing that Bladdos had requested 'threatening'.

They left Obi-Wan alone with the droid, which immediately scanned him for injuries. It bleeped a bit disappointedly when it discovered that other than some bruising, Obi-Wan's only significant injury, his left big toe, was already treated. Obi-Wan reassured the machine that it would be activated immediately if there were any medical emergencies before it shut down for internal diagnostics in the corner of the room.

- - - End Part 1