He heard sound, but it was only a rush of white noise. His eyes were open, but he could only see vapor. He was wet, but he was not in water.
Since he was not able to trust his sight or hearing, Qui-Gon Jinn decided to focus on the pain.
He tracked its location and measured its quality. It was on the left side of his chest, above his heart, and ran up to his shoulder. It wasn’t a white-hot pain, but a steady burning ache, as deep as muscle and bone.
It told him he was alive.
He tried to move his right arm. The slight contraction of muscle, the effort required, seemed enormous. He hit something smooth with his fingers.
He followed it slowly, tracing it up, then down. He moved his other arm and reached out his hand. Again, he met a solid wall. It was all around him. He realized that he was trapped.
A jolt of panic raced through him as he realized that he did not remember why he was here. Qui-Gon allowed it to exist and then watched it go. He breathed deeply. He was a Jedi Knight. His lightsaber was gone as well as his utility belt, but he still had the Force.
He was not alone.
As he breathed, Qui-Gon brought his mind to stillness. He told himself that his memory would return. He would not strain for it. He did not need it to live in the present moment.
He concentrated on his surroundings. Slowly he realized that he was in a transparent chamber. The reason he felt dizzy and strange was that he hung suspended, upside down. A cloudy gas surrounded him. Somehow it kept him floating in the tank. He could not see clearly through the vapor to the outside. He shifted, hoping to change position, and pain shot down his shoulder to his side. Blaster wounds were tricky. You thought the flesh was knitting, and then your wound told you otherwise if you tried too much, too soon…
Blaster wound.
Memories flooded back.
He had been on a mountainside with his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. They were trying to protect his friend Didi Oddo and Didi’s daughter, Astri. The bounty hunter had shot Didi, and he had fallen…
Didi.
…and Obi-Wan had leaped an astonishing distance to knock the bounty hunter down. The bounty hunter had tried one last desperate maneuver, throwing a knife at Astri. His Padawan had caught it in midair. Qui-Gon remembered the pride he felt when he saw the skill of his Padawan, how Obi-Wan had timed his move and called on the Force in order to catch the deadly spinning weapon by the hilt, not the blade.
The bounty hunter had known she was defeated then. She had activated a cable line, which launched her down the mountain toward her craft. Qui-Gon had followed. He had just made it onto the launching ramp when she shot him. He remembered his surprise at the white heat in his chest, remembered falling forward into the ship and the ramp closing after him. He thought he could still hear Obi-Wan’s cry.
He had left his Padawan on a remote planet with a wounded Didi—let him be wounded, not dead—and a young girl.
Qui-Gon moved again, and his wound screamed fire.
A female voice suddenly came to him, amplified within the tank.
“You might be experiencing some pain. It’s from the chest wound. It has been treated. You will survive.”
“Who are you?” Qui-Gon asked.
“You are a subject of scientific experimentation,” the voice went on pleasantly. “You will not be hurt, only studied.”
“What do you mean, I won’t be hurt? I’m confined!” Qui-Gon protested.
“You will be treated well.”
“I am here against my will! Who are you? Where am I?”
The voice did not answer. Instead, an apparatus shot into the chamber. At the end was a syringe. Qui-Gon tried to twist away, but he had nowhere to move. A needle pricked him in the neck. He watched his blood move down the transparent tube. The syringe retracted. Slowly, his body revolved until he was right-side up again.
Dizziness swamped him, but he knew it would pass. He gathered his strength, waiting out the spell.
As soon as he felt strong, he gritted his teeth against the pain and lashed out with both feet. He could not get enough leverage, and he bounced off the transparent material. He struck out with a balled fist, but got no response. The material did not bend. It did not even move a millimeter.
“Now, is that suitable behavior?” the voice chided. “You are not a child.”
“I am a Jedi Knight!” Qui-Gon shouted.
“Precisely. And your life is one of service. Isn’t that so?” The voice did not wait for him to respond. “Now you will be of service to the galaxy. Much more so than when you dash from world to world, waving that lightsaber around. I’m doing you a favor. You get to truly prove your commitment—how many Jedi can say the same? So relax. Let’s see some of that famous Jedi meditation.”
The note of dry amusement was suddenly familiar to Qui-Gon. Of course! As his memory returned, so did his suspicions.
His captor was Jenna Zan Arbor.
The brilliant scientist who appeared so perfect on the surface. The researcher who had saved whole populations from famine and plague. Yet somehow he had suspected that she was behind the plot to kill Didi. He was glad to see that his instincts had been correct.
Unfortunately, he was now her prisoner.
And he had not confided his suspicions to Obi-Wan. The boy would not know where to look, whom to suspect.
“Jenna Zan Arbor, you will not be able to hide from the Jedi,” he said, matching her coolness with his own.
“Ah, so you know who I am. I’m impressed. What a specimen! It merely proves my choice is correct. I have researched you, Qui-Gon Jinn. I have found that you are an esteemed Jedi Knight, strong in the Force. You are perfect for my needs.”
“And what are your needs?” Qui-Gon asked.
He heard her dry, humorless laugh. “All in good time, Qui-Gon. Just say good-bye to the life you knew. You are mine now.”
Obi-Wan Kenobi stared at the floor. It was a change. For hours, he had been staring at the wall.
He was in the Jedi Temple med center. With one look, Obi-Wan knew Didi needed the best care in the galaxy. He and Astri had brought Didi in, talking to him constantly during the journey, even though he had long ago lapsed into unconsciousness.
The Jedi medics and healers had rushed Didi into an interior room.
They had only come out to tell Obi-Wan and Astri that Didi was still alive, and that they were hopeful.
Over the long night, Bant had sat by his side, then Garen, his best friends at the Temple. Bant did not speak, but occasionally would slip her slender hand into his. All night they had sat, waiting for news. At last he had sent his friends away to eat breakfast. He could not eat. He could not sleep.
Didi struggled for life in the next room. What about Qui-Gon? Was his Master alive or dead?
He is alive, Obi-Wan told himself fiercely. He is alive because he must be alive.
He had seen the blaster fire hit Qui-Gon in the chest near the heart.
He had seen him stagger and fall back. But Qui-Gon had reserves of strength that were astonishing. Even if he were the bounty hunter’s captive, he would manage to stay alive until Obi-Wan could find him. The bounty hunter would not leave him to die.
He told himself this, over and over. But when he remembered her impassive face, her ruthlessness in battle, Obi-Wan felt despair.
And still I sit here. Waiting.
He had briefed Yoda and Tahl, the Jedi Knight who was coordinating the search for Qui-Gon. He had told them everything he knew. But he could not tell them where the bounty hunter was headed. They did not know who had hired her to track down Didi. They did not know why. They did not even know her name. There were too many questions. And Qui-Gon’s life hung in the balance.
Yoda had assigned several Jedi teams to investigate Qui-Gon’s disappearance. Tahl was trying to crack the code of Jenna Zan Arbor’s datapad, as well as look for clues that might lead to the identity and whereabouts of the mysterious bounty hunter. Everything that could possibly be done was being done. All the resources of the Jedi were turned toward finding Qui-Gon. Except for Obi-Wan. He could only sit.
“Have you memorized the floor yet?”
Astri’s voice broke into his thoughts. She gave him a half smile. “I have. There are twenty-seven squares of stone between here and the wall.”
“It can’t be much longer,” Obi-Wan said.
She sighed and leaned forward on her knees, clasping her hands together. Astri was tall and slender, with midnight-black hair that hung in curls to the middle of her back. She was older than Obi-Wan and had run Didi’s Café with her father. He did not know Astri well, but he had come to know that she did not like to show weakness or affection. Having her father shot before her eyes had devastated her. Trying to conceal her shock and despair was defeating her.
“I never knew my birth parents,” Astri said as she stared down at the floor. “Someone left me in Didi’s Café. He took me in.”
“I didn’t know that,” Obi-Wan said.
“I think whoever left me there must have cared about me somewhat,” Astri went on softly. “They chose Didi to be my father. They knew he wouldn’t give me away to be placed by the government. They knew his heart would melt at the sight of a baby. And it did. I was lucky.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Obi-Wan said. “Sometimes the home you find is the one you are meant to have.” It was how he felt about the Temple. And Qui-Gon.
She turned to look at him, sorrow in her dark eyes. “I’m sure Qui-Gon will be all right. He’s so strong. I’ve known him all my life, Obi-Wan. I have seen how strong he is.”
Obi-Wan nodded. If Qui-Gon were dead, he would know it. He would feel it.
“I know you want to find him. Thank you for staying here with me.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start,” Obi-Wan confessed. “We don’t know why the bounty hunter was hired.”
“We know she tried to steal that datapad,” Astri said. “So we know there is information on it that is valuable to someone. And we know that datapad belonged to Jenna Zan Arbor. Fligh stole it from her.”
“But he also stole Senator S’orn’s datapad,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “So the connection to the bounty hunter could lie there. Your friend Fligh is dead and cannot give us answers. And even if we did find out who hired the bounty hunter, we still don’t know where she would take Qui-Gon.”
Astri nodded. “But you will find him,” she said. “The Jedi can do anything.”
She stood, wincing as she did so. Astri had a wrenched shoulder, as well as bumps and bruises from being dragged down the mountainside, a prisoner of the bounty hunter’s whip.
“Are you all right?” Obi-Wan asked. “The medic could give you something for the pain.”
“No, I want to stay alert. What about you?” Astri asked Obi-Wan. “How is your leg?”
Obi-Wan felt the bandage on his thigh. His leg had been sliced by the spiking of the bounty hunter’s whip. The wound had been bathed in a bacta tank. It would heal. Already the pain was ebbing.
And Qui-Gon? Have his wounds been attended to?
Astri prowled around the small waiting room. It was designed for comfort and calm, in colors of pale blue and white. The seating areas were grouped for both privacy and intimacy.
Astri looked out at the view of Coruscant. “I am so grateful to the Jedi. The healers and medics have been so good. I just wish they were faster.”
The door to the inner treatment rooms opened. The Jedi healer, Winna Di Yuni, came toward them, dressed in the light blue tunic of a medic. Obi-Wan had been glad when Winna had taken over Didi’s care. She was an elder Jedi, tall and strong, with a gentle manner. She was renowned for her great skill as a diagnostician. She had a vast knowledge of all the diseases in the galaxy.
Now Obi-Wan’s heart beat faster when he saw the look on Winna’s face.
He knew in a sudden flash that she was not bringing good news. He stood, and Astri quickly crossed to his side.
Winna looked at Astri kindly and gestured for them to take a seat.
She sat opposite them. “We have done all we can for your father,” she said. “It is up to Didi now. His life energy is very low. He himself must find the strength to fight.”
Obi-Wan saw Astri swallow. “His wounds are bad?” he asked.
Winna nodded. “Very bad, I’m afraid. But that is not the only problem. Infection has set in, an infection that we cannot identify. We are searching all our data banks. I did not want to come out here until we found out what infection this is, but you need to know what is happening.”
“I don’t understand,” Astri said. “You are the best healers in the galaxy. If you don’t know what is wrong with Didi, who will know?”
“We do not know everything,” Winna said gently. “The galaxy is a very large place. Infections and diseases pop up everywhere, new ones all the time. I have no doubt that we will locate the source of this one. But it may take time.”
“Didi doesn’t have time,” Astri said, gripping her hands together. “That is what you mean.”
“Do not look for the worst thing,” Winna said. “Think of the best thing. We will identify this infection and treat it.”
Astri bit her lip. “Can I see him?”
“Yes, of course. He is not conscious. But he might feel your presence. Come with me.”
Astri followed Winna. She looked as though she were sleepwalking.
Obi-Wan felt stunned as well. Didi was larger than life. He had expected the healers to come out with good news any second.
Instead, there was only more waiting…
The door to the main hallway opened. Tahl walked in with Yoda at her side.
“How is Didi?” Yoda asked. “Heard we did that news there is.”
“He has an infection that they cannot identify,” Obi-Wan said. “Winna tried to reassure Astri, but I can see that she is worried.”
“Do her best, she will. A great amount, that is.” Yoda pressed a button and one of the seating cushions lowered. They were adjustable for the many species in the Jedi Temple. He lowered himself onto the cushion, then leaned on his staff. “And you, Obi-Wan? No sleep you’ve had, I fear.”
“I can’t sleep until I know Qui-Gon is safe,” Obi-Wan said. “Is there any news?”
Tahl’s sightless green-and-gold striped eyes were filled with frustration. She shook her head, her lips tightening. “I’ve got every contact working, Obi-Wan,” she told him. “Giett has returned from his long mission and is back on the Council, so Ki-Adi-Mundi is helping with the galactic search. We could not ask for a better analyst.”
Obi-Wan nodded. Ki-Adi-Mundi had stood in for Giett on the Jedi Council for a time. With his binary brain, he was able to sift through an extraordinary amount of information and analyze it.
“We don’t have anything on the bounty hunter,” Tahl continued. “She has no known friends or comrades. Those who have hired her refuse to talk, even to us. They’re scared of retaliation. But we’re working on it.”
“What about Jenna Zan Arbor’s datapad?” Obi-Wan asked. “There must be something on it that somebody wants.”