Maybe Qui-Gon’s hesitation about him had been right all along. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be a Jedi.
Obi-Wan wiped the sweat from his eyes with the hem of his tunic. He made sure his lightsaber was holstered securely.
Then he turned back to help his friend.
Chapter 11
Qui-Gon swung his legs over his sleep-couch. He felt his heart pound in his chest, every muscle on alert. But why?
He had been resting when he sensed it. It felt as though danger was near, but Qui-Gon was not in danger…
Suddenly, he recognized the feeling. He had experienced it before. Jedi sometimes sense when another Jedi, close to them, is in trouble. At times, they can even see a vague picture of what that trouble might be. Qui- Gon searched his mind, but did not see anything clear. Only haze.
“Obi-Wan,” he murmured. It had to be the boy. Qui-Gon fought against the feeling. It was ridiculous, absurd. The boy was not his Padawan. Why would there be such a strong connection between them?
Yet there it was. Yoda would be pleased.
Qui-Gon groaned. He was not.
Wherever he turned, the boy appeared. He was happy to treat Obi-Wan’s injuries, but he refused to be responsible for his welfare. If the boy had gotten himself into some sort of mess, he would just have to find his own way out of it.
Qui-Gon stretched out on the sleep-couch again. But this time, although he could quiet his body, he could not quiet his mind.
Time seemed to crawl as Obi-Wan desperately searched for Si Treemba. He had to drag himself through the air shaft, sneaking past miner cabins and peering through grates, holding his breath. Grime covered his hands and grit flew into his eyes as he stirred up years of dust.
At last he found Si Treemba, four floors down near the belly of the ship. A small cabin had been made into a make shift prison cell. Apparently, the Monument had need of a temporary jail during its transport runs. Considering the crowd on this one, Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised.
Obi-Wan peered down through the vent. Si Treemba was chained to the wall by one ankle. He lay sprawled on the floor, his arms outstretched. Just out of his reach lay some yellow crystals of dactyl. Only a half-dozen paces away a Hutt and two Whiphid guards played cards at a massive carved metal table.
The Arconan boy looked beaten and bruised, but more seemed to be wrong with him than a mere beating. His color had gone from a healthy gray-green to muddy tan. Obi-Wan could see that the life force in the Arconan was week, and fading. But why? Si Treemba had ingested his dactyl supply before they’d begun the search. Why had he weakened so fast?
The Hutt slithered over to Si Treemba and grinned as he stared down at the captive. Obi-Wan recognized him. It was the Hutt who had beaten him up the day before.
“Ready to talk yet?” the Hutt asked. “Don’t you want that dactyl? I could push a few crystals over.
Si Treemba stared at him silently. Even from above, Obi-Wan could see that his friend’s contempt for the Hutt could not mask his fear.
The Hutt leaned closer, his huge head bobbing in front of Si Treemba. “What were you doing in our vents? Who sent you to spy on us?”
Weakly Si Treemba shook his head.
“You don’t look so good,” the Hutt sneered. “we gave you enough salt in the saline injection to deplete all of the dactyl in your body.” He leaned back again and chortled. “So why don’t you tell us what we want to know? It beats dying. Someone was with you. Who was it? Arconans never travel alone.”
Si Treemba shook his head again. His head lolled back, and his cheek hit the floor.
Frustration filled Obi-Wan. He had to do something. He grasped the vent and pulled it out. He shoved himself into the opening, then somersaulted to the floor. In a heartbeat, his lightsaber was in his hand.
“Do you only pick on the weak and unarmed, Hutt?” he asked.
For a moment, the Hutt was so astonished that he could only blink at Obi-Wan. The he began to laugh.
“Blast him,” he said offhandedly to the Whiphid guards.
Obi-Wan had counted on the slow reaction time of the Whiphids. They stared at him, their mouths open underneath their tusks.
Obi-Wan sprang forward, slashing at the heavy table. The lightsaber cut through the thick legs easily. With a crash, the table thudded down on the Whiphids. The flimsy stools they had been sitting on collapsed under the weight, pinning them to the floor. They howled in surprise and pain.
“Sorry to break up your game,” Obi-Wan said. Keeping his eye on the surprised Hutt, he reached over to the table and grabbed the key to Si Treemba’s leg cuff. The shackle was an ancient thing of metal, with a simple lock. Obi-Wan tossed the key to Si Treemba.
The Hutt slithered toward him. “So, young Jedi, you have not yet learned your lesson? How dare you defy me, the mighty Grelb!”
“Oh, but I did learn something,” Obi-Wan said. He held the lightsaber in readiness. “You prey on the weak. Now I am prepared to fight you, coward.”
Grelb eyed the lightsaber with contempt. “With that?”
