Chapter Text
Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn stood straight, hands clasped behind his back as he listened to the queen relay her plans to her bodyguard and captain of the Royal Army. Queen Amidala sat in the center of the throne room aboard the Naboo starship, face calm, almost unreadable. Two handmaidens flanked her on either side of the grand throne, dressed in the warm orange hues that complimented the planet they hailed from.
“As soon as we land, the Federation will arrest you and force you to sign the treaty,” Captain Panaka’s voice came anxious but firm as he implored his queen to rethink her plans. It was suicide to enter Naboo’s atmosphere head-on with no army. Two Jedi knights, a few pilots, Panaka himself, and a droid had laughable firepower compared to the militia the Federation commanded.
Qui-Gon forced down a sigh. Their rescue of the queen would be for nothing if she was captured again and forced to accept the Federation’s treaty. He didn’t want to risk his newest charge’s life in the inevitable conflict. Anakin Skywalker- the Chosen One. His potential Padawan if only the Jedi Council would see reason and follow the will of the Force.
“I agree. I’m not sure what you wish to accomplish by this,” Qui-Gon murmured.
The queen’s eyes narrowed determinedly, “I will take back what is ours.”
Qui-Gon admired her resolve, but he still felt uneasy at risking Ani’s life. The boy wasn’t trained in the Jedi arts, couldn’t protect himself with a lightsaber and the Force if needed.
“I can only protect you. I can’t fight a war for you,” he reminded the queen instead. The Jedi Order considered him somewhat a maverick, disregarding the code for the Force’s will, but the title suited his purpose now. Anakin had to be protected at all costs.
When they return to Coruscant, he will ensure the boy is trained in the ways of the Jedi and as his Padawan. He had told the Council as much, and he wouldn't let their unease distract them from the will of the Force. Anakin had to be trained. Besides, Obi-Wan was ready. Keeping his Padawan by his side was surely attachment by now.
Qui-Gon hadn't missed the almost imperceptible tightening of his current Padawan’s shoulders during their meeting with the Council. Shock had flared through their bond before Obi-Wan snapped his shields in place. Qui-Gon nearly smiled. Obi-Wan was a religious follower of the Jedi Code, unwavering in respect for the leaders of the Order. At the beginning of their Master/Padawan days, Qui-Gon had worried that Obi-Wan’s said devotion would impede their fledgling bond.
Qui-Gon lived in the moment, backed by the fierce will of the Living Force that connected all living things. His Padawan took calculated, logical actions, guided by the confusion that made the Cosmic Force so unreliable. However, their strengths and weaknesses complimented each other so greatly that their bond had become one of the strongest in the Jedi Order.
Qui-Gon’s heart pained at the thought of losing Obi-Wan. Perhaps he was selfish in wanting to keep his Padawan by his side forever. He couldn’t imagine a mission without the accompaniment of his loyal, witty boy. But Obi-Wan deserved to live his life unshackled by his Master’s desires. He would become a Knight. He had been for some time. Now Qui-Gon had a reason for taking on Anakin as his apprentice and ushering Obi-Wan on toward his future.
The queen turned and addressed Jar Jar Binks. Qui-Gon winced as the Gungan tripped forward. “Meesa, your highness?”
Obi-Wan often expressed an exasperated tolerance for Qui-Gon and his “pathetic life forms.” The Jedi Master was always bringing some plant or stray into their apartments to nurse back to health. It was always because of a prompting from the Force to help a slighted soul. But Qui-Gon couldn’t help but wonder if he had actually felt prompted to save the clumsy Gungan’s life. Thinking back on it, he really hadn’t.
The queen did not explain her plans for Jar Jar. From what Qui-Gon surmised, the ship would land deep in Gungan territory and be abandoned to the Federation while they sought council with Boss Nass. Beyond that, the entire crew was unsure what the queen’s next move would be. Frankly, everyone felt it best to stay away from the Gungans period. Jar Jar was enough even for Qui-Gon and his Jedi patience.
With the meeting adjourned, Qui-Gon turned to his apprentice and they filed out of the throne room. “It will likely be a few hours before we reach Naboo, plenty of time for rest. We don’t know what we’ll encounter upon our arrival.”
He expected his Padawan to protest that he was well enough to accomplish their mission. He expected a cheeky smile, a witty comment about letting his old master sleep off the aches of old bones.
Obi-Wan nodded and turned away with a quiet, “Yes, master.”
Qui-Gon held back a grimace. Ever since the unfortunate council meeting when Qui-Gon announced his plans to take Anakin Skywalker as his Padawan, their relationship had become cold and tense. Obi-Wan wasn’t his usual self, amusing, humorous and relaxed. His Padawan was now distant and quiet. When he spoke, it was in one-word sentences. Qui-Gon despaired at Obi-Wan’s anger.
Deep down he knew why Obi-Wan was so formal toward him. It was Anakin. “Another pathetic life form” Obi-Wan had called the Chosen One. But he, like the council, didn’t understand Ani’s importance. The boy would bring balance to the Force, Qui-Gon was sure of that. Obi-Wan would understand eventually. He hadn’t been replaced by the Tatooinian child.
Besides, Qui-Gon thought, Obi-Wan is ready for Knighthood. I have kept him by my side too long.
“Obi-Wan,” the Jedi Master reached for his Padawan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan sidestepped his hand.
The silence that followed was unbearable. Even the Force seemed to be reeling from the stiffness that hadn’t been seen in their bond since Obi-Wan’s early apprenticeship.
Qui-Gon’s heart surged. His Padawan wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I will check on Anakin and make sure he settles in alright,” Qui-Gon murmured, deciding to ignore the heaviness in the air. They would talk about this later.
Obi-Wan turned slightly toward the Jedi Master, eyes narrowed at the mention of the boy’s name. “Fine, Master. Of course you will do what you feel is right.”
Qui-Gon bristled a bit at his Padawan’s blatant disrespect, but before he could scold his apprentice, Obi-Wan had turned away and proceeded down the ship’s corridor.
A long sigh escaped him. How could he make this right?
He wanted Obi-Wan and Anakin to get along. They would be brothers soon in the Temple, and both Padawans under the same master. Obi-Wan, an older brother, guiding Anakin along through his Jedi training, teaching him the secrets that brothers always kept behind knowing smirks and laughter. But it seemed that dream was not meant to be. Obi-Wan was cold to the boy. He had no desire to get to know Ani. And the Tatooinian child seemed put-off by Obi-Wan’s disgruntled looks and standoffish behavior. They both stayed as far away from each other as often they could.
Qui-Gon proceeded to the main hold where Anakin was curled up in a space beneath the Tech station, swathed in thick blankets he must have asked the handmaidens for. Anakin brightened immediately as the Jedi walked in. He struggled up out of the heavy blankets and launched himself at the tall figure. “Master Qui-Gon sir!”
The Jedi Master chuckled and rested a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, “What have you been up to, Ani?”
The boy smiled widely. “Well, first I went to the royal quarters to talk to Padmè, but the other handmaidens said she was sleeping so I walked around the ship for a little bit. One of the pilots let me go up into the cockpit, it was so wizard! He even said I can go back later and help fly the ship !”
Qui-Gon smiled at the boy’s excitement, “That’s wonderful, Ani.”
The Jedi Master settled against the wall next to Anakin and the two discussed arbitrary things. Anakin led most of their conversation, jumping from topic to topic like a leaping Kashyyykian Kybuck. His blue eyes sparkled with effervescent excitement. His hands flashed animatedly.
Anakin told him of his curiosity in the hyperdrive mechanisms, the different mechanical anatomy of the ship and his podracer back home, the amusing R2 unit in Queen Amidala’s entourage, and how he built the protocol droid he left for Shmi on Tatooine.
“I miss her,” the boy suddenly whispered, pulling the wool blanket up to his chin.
Qui-Gon gently placed his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. “Fear not, my young friend. The Force has willed you to be here. Focus on this moment, Ani, and the Force will take care of the rest in its own time.”
The Chosen One nodded and yawned, curling up into the large Jedi’s frame. Qui-Gon watched fondly as he nodded off. The boy was a pure soul. Although his care for Shmi would be seen as an attachment in any Jedi’s eyes, Qui-Gon wondered if that was for the best. Ani had grown up a slave. His mother had been the only sure foundation, only means of care the child had had in the world. To be separated from the only love he knew gave him the right to despair, the council be damned if they said otherwise.
Qui-Gon stood,cradling the small child in his arms. With regret, he lowered Anakin gently into his blankets, tucking the warm cloth around the boy’s trembling frame. “It will get better, young one. I promise,” he murmured.
Qui-Gon returned to the quarters he shared with Obi-Wan. The door opened with a soft hiss and the Jedi Master stepped into darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the dark cabin space, he spotted his Padawan curled up in his cot against the ship wall. A smile tugged at the Jedi Master’s lips.
Obi-Wan slept like a child half his age, endearingly curled into a small ball against whatever wall his bed was pushed up against. Like he was trying to take up as little compartment space as possible.
Qui-Gon moved toward his apprentice and marveled at how young Obi-Wan seemed in sleep.
His Padawan’s face smoothed out from the stresses of the day. His long braid rested against his cheek and his jaw relaxed, drawing in deep, heavy breaths. Qui-Gon was struck again by the sheer depressing pain at the thought of losing his child. His boy. His light .
“I wish you would forgive me, little one. I know not how I’ve grieved you. I long for the days we once spoke truthfully to one another,” Qui-Gon gently stroked Obi-Wan’s hair as he spoke, delighting in the soft sensation and the comfort it brought. Like the warmth of nostalgia.
The boy sighed in his sleep and Qui-Gon’s heart warmed at the sound.
A sudden jolt rocked the ship so hard it almost sent the Jedi Master crashing into his sleeping Padawan. Qui-Gon steadied himself against the upper wall of the ship.
What was going on? Were they emerging from hyperspace?
Another rough shake jerked him to his knees. Qui-Gon reached to steady his apprentice, but Obi-Wan still slept soundly as if the ship wasn’t rocking at all.
Qui-Gon pulled himself from the floor of the ship and stumbled to the doors of their quarters. He wondered if one of the crew members would sprint out, racing down the halls to tell them something was wrong with the hyperdrive core or they were being attacked. But no one was in the corridors. In fact it seemed almost peaceful.
Through the force, Qui-Gon felt the gentle stillness of the crew dispersed throughout the ship. Their signatures were passive, not on alert. Nothing seemed to be the matter.
But deep down, Qui-Gon could feel the mild stirring of the Force, like a giant beast lulled slowly awake, uncoiling from slumber. There was no bright warning smearing the air, but the Jedi Master could feel the Force’s anticipation. Something was about to happen.
The ship jolted again, shuddering more violently than it had before. Qui-Gon braced himself against the wall as the ship shook. His teeth rattled in his mouth, his limbs quivered, dangerously close to giving out.
A deep rumble echoed through the ship’s corridors, vibrating loud in Qui-Gon’s ears. There was a crashing noise sounding over and over in his head. It was a cacophony of sounds, howls resonating physically through the force. Qui-Gon gritted his teeth as the ship seemed to roll beneath him. The Jedi Master grasped desperately for the Force, but it twisted out of his reach.
Qui-Gon felt no fear, only confusion as the Force coiled around him, filling the atmosphere around the ship’s corridor with a fretful eagerness. The Jedi Master had no time to prepare as the Force lashed out at him, physically and mentally slamming him backwards.
Qui-Gon’s head struck the wall behind him and everything went black.
🌣🌣🌣
A bright spear of light sheared the darkness in the Jedi Master’s mind. With a groan, Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead as heavy pain settled between his eyes. It hurt to move, to raise his hand, to think. But as the seconds ticked on, the Jedi became aware of the dryness in his throat and the unbearable heat scathing his skin.
Qui-Gon’s eyes cracked open and the light grew brighter, crashing down on his pupils with burning fire. The Jedi groaned and closed his eyes again. The throbbing pain flared more insistently in his head. Qui-Gon slowly opened his burning eyes, millimeters at a time as they adjusted to the brightness around him.
There was pure blue sky above him. No clouds graced the pale stretch in any direction. Qui-Gon slowly sat up, tensing a bit as the aching between his eyes increased.
Shock filled his core.
There was sand everywhere. Piling in large and small dunes ahead, shifting in desert breezes, scratching his skin and burrowed deeply in his cloak.
But it was the twin suns hanging brilliantly in the sky that astonished the Jedi Master more than anything.
He was on Tatooine.
How in the Force was he on Tatooine?
Qui-Gon hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the protesting joints in his body worn by age. He turned every which way, glaring far out into the horizon in all directions. There seemed to be no civilization in sight anywhere. The Naboo starship he had once been on was gone.
With a sigh, Qui-Gon concentrated on the Force, wondering absently if it would lash out at him again and send the Jedi to Coruscant or Mandalore or some other planet. The Force was quiet but smug as Qui-Gon questioned its motives. It nudged him gently forward instead.
Exasperated, Qui-Gon focused on choosing a direction to walk. If this was a vision, something would present itself in time. Although, this was the most tangible vision he’d ever received in his life. The sun beat down on his skin like nettles. His mouth was dry and his skin pressed insistently down on aching muscles—all signs pointing to dehydration.
The Jedi slowly trudged through the heavy sand, drawing his cowl further over his head as sand whipped and stung his eyes and cheeks.
The time passed sluggishly, along with Qui-Gon’s surety that he was stuck in a vision. Surely one would not last so long and waste itself on a journey through desert sands? Was this a fancy test of patience? Endurance?
Just as Qui-Gon was about to stop and prompt the Force again, he caught sight of a bright spark in the distant sands beyond. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes as the flicker materialized slowly into an oncoming speeder.
The Jedi Master sighed in relief and raised his hands to signal the cruising vehicle. As it drew closer, Qui-Gon was able to pick out its driver—a tall humanoid with graying hair. The speeder drew to a stop only feet away from Qui-Gon and the driver offered him a smile.
“You mus be new here, eh, buddy?” The voice slurred through rough, cracked lips. “Any sane fella wouldn’t sleep out under this ol’ hot desert sun. Not unless they wan death. Or too damned drunk to move.”
Qui-Gon managed to smile at the barely perceptible words from the old man. “Regrettably, I have no idea where I am on this planet.”
Two gray, bushy eyebrows rose. “Ah, you’re traipsin’ through the Xelric Draw. Few clicks from Mos Espa.”
Qui-Gon crossed his arms. “Well, my friend. I am unfortunately new here on this planet. Will you point me in the direction of the town?”
The old man cackled. “Ah, a damn polite drunk you are, yes. Get on here, stranger. I’ll take you.” Before Qui-Gon could raise any protestations, the old driver rolled his eyes. “I’m headin’ there myself. Won’t do no good for you to…die out here in this damn heat. You’re a nice fella fer a strange man wearin’ strange clothes. The name’s B’omar.”
The Jedi Master shook B’omar’s wrinkled hand politely. “I thank you for your hospitality. I am Qui-Gon Jinn.”
B’omar shot him an amused look, “A drunk, offworlder , if I do say so myself, Qui-Jinny.”
It seemed the Force was made to punish him. All the patience in the world, every Jedi calming technique and code in existence were not enough to keep Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn from drumming his fingers on the beige material of his leggings.
B’omar was bent on sharing every detail of his life to the ‘drunk offworlder,’ Qui Jinny. He droned on and on about moisture vaporators, Corellian liquor, and bantha herds . Qui-Gon was the unfortunate soul the old man could confide in.
The Jedi Master knew patience was the foundation of the Force. One needed to express serenity in order to feel the gentle tendrils of the Force wrapping around all life forms. Patience was the only sure way to hear its promptings.
But Qui-Gon couldn’t understand why the Force remained a quiet hum in the background of his mind. It seemed content to let the Jedi Master figure out his next actions on his own and dispense of his irritation without its help.
He was alone.
Except, of course, B’omar was with him. This old man seemed like a humanoid manifestation of the equally irritating Jar Jar Binks.
The Force had an unnaturally cruel sense of humor.
On the horizon, Qui-Gon spotted the first signs of life as the tops of large Synth-stone buildings appeared in the distance. He sat up quickly and tried to release his anticipation and relief into the absent Force.
Serenity. He must show serenity.
B’omar turned toward him and grinned, “Welcome to Mos Espa, Qui-Jinny.”
Mos Espa was a large city for Tatooine. Humans and offworlders alike milled about the streets of the metropolis, carrying various foods and trunks, driving speeders, and leading large draft creatures around the clustered buildings. Qui-Gon recognized some of the numerous domed buildings of the port city he and the Nabooian handmaiden had walked around looking for ship parts.
But it seemed the city had changed immensely in the short amount of time since he’d been here. There were numerous expanded areas and buildings Qui-Gon couldn’t remember if he’d seen or not. It seemed the city had doubled since the last time he was here.
There seemed to be more offworlders, too. Most everyone walked with anxiety in their steps, shrouded tightly under thick cowls, and eyes burned to the floor.
B’omar steered the speeder away from pedestrian traffic and Qui-Gon gratefully stepped off the vehicle. With a smile and a wave, the old man shot away into the distant city, echoes of “good day, Qui-Jinny” rebounding in the Jedi Master’s ears.
Qui-Gon sighed in relief and the ache between his eyes settled as all traces of B’omar disappeared. Now he could focus and perhaps the Force would grant him some guidance.
The last thing he remembered was milling about the Naboo starship, despairing at the plight between his Padawan and future Padawan. The Force must have sent him away in a vision when he fell unconscious, struck against the wall of the ship during that awful shaking.
It seemed he’d been sent to Tatooine to learn something the Force wasn’t ready to give him access to anytime soon.
In fact, it was prompting him to get a drink, it seemed. Qui-Gon was unknowingly walking toward the Mos Espan cantina as he drowned himself in the Force. It nudged him entreatingly along toward the bar, suddenly satisfied to direct him now.
The Cantina was not a refreshing air to walk into. In fact, it felt unbearably hotter in the low-lit room filled with drunk, stinking bodies. Upbeat music played somewhat quietly in the background, covered by the lazy hum of voices discussing trades in the city in hushed voices.
Qui-Gon made his way to the bar’s counter and took an empty seat. He disliked the scene of a cantina and never felt the need to visit bars unless a mission required it. He didn’t drink alcohol, content with the gratifying warmth and bitter taste of tea. And cantinas always invited trouble. Jedi crave no excitement.
The bartender slid a cup skillfully in his direction. Qui-Gon peered distastefully into the brown, sloshing liquid, letting his fingers trace the rim of the cup. The bartender raised an eyebrow and leaned toward him. “Usually folks with a long face drain their first cup. And then they order another.”
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a drinker,” Qui-Gon replied and met the bartender’s eyes.
The bartender smiled, “Ah. You come here to listen to the trade gossip, then? Sometimes the successful ones spill their greatest secrets when they’re drunk. The best business ventures follow a good bottle of liqueur.”
Qui-Gon couldn’t help but smile at the man’s honesty. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a businessman either.”
The bartender’s eyes scanned the Jedi Master’s figure. “I’m interested to know what you are doing here then, my friend. It’s not often we get visitors so opposed to a drink or two. Stars know everyone in the galaxy needs one.”
Qui-Gon shrugged, “I’m not sure myself why I’m here.”
The bartender’s eyes twinkled. “A traveler, then. Tell me, wanderer, do you bring any news from the core worlds? Word travels slow to the Outer Rim. Everyone on Tatooine would like to know the 'going-on's of the Galactic Empire. Bribing the stationed Stormtroopers here brings little news and-”
Qui-Gon interrupted, “I’m sorry… Empire ?” As far as the Jedi Master knew, the Republic was democratic. No planets in the core worlds would follow such a government. Especially the Jedi.
The bartender gave him a confused look. “Perhaps you come from the far reaches of the Outer Rim, then? Wild Space? I was sure everyone knew of the Empire.”
Qui-Gon found himself nodding even as he concentrated on the Force. This was certainly a strange vision and he was having a difficult time trying to figure out the Force’s will behind it all. This was the problem with the Cosmic Force. It delighted too much in trickery and riddles.
The bartender sighed. “I don’t know why you have no knowledge of the Empire, but to keep you from getting a dozen laser bolts to the chest from overzealous troopers, I’ll explain it to you.” He leaned in closer to Qui-Gon and whispered, “About twenty years ago the Republic fell and, in its place, the Galactic Empire rose. Chancellor Palpatine declared himself Emperor after the end of the Clone Wars to ensure safety and security. Well he was wrong. We all were. It seems we just traded in one Dark Age for another.”
The man’s words did nothing to abate Qui-Gon’s confusion. In fact, they seemed to increase his bewilderment. But since this was only a Force vision, he would play along. “Why did the Jedi not do anything, then, to stop the rise of this Empire?”
The bartender sucked in a harsh breath and stumbled back a step. He narrowed his eyes furiously at Qui-Gon. “Don’t ever utter that word in my Cantina again! Do you want the Empire storming into my business and destroying everything I’ve built here? Maybe you don’t know anything at all about the galaxy we live in now, so I’ll warn you only once. Do it again and I’m throwing you out of my Cantina, regardless of your civility.”
Qui-Gon was taken aback by the bartender’s sudden change in temperament. He honestly didn’t mean to offend the man. The Force was taking this vision into uncomfortably real consideration.
“Forgive me. I did not wish to offend you,” he murmured and layered his words with the Force to ease the man’s growing discontent.
The bartender relaxed visibly. “I don’t know how you’ve made it alive in this galaxy, my friend. But I will tell you that to stay that way, you will never discuss the old order again. The Empire detests any mention of…of the… Jedi ,” His voice dropped instantly to a whisper. “The day the Republic fell was the day the Jedi were annihilated. Emperor Palpatine uncovered a plot by the Order to destroy the Republic and Senate. Apparently there was an attempted assassination too. The entire Jedi Order was hunted down and defeated. I don’t know how true that is, though. I heard it from a drunk Corellian smuggler.”
Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed. “The Jedi were destroyed? By whom?”
“Oh, in the beginning, it was the Clone Troopers. They stormed the Jedi temple and wiped out everyone inside. The few that escaped were hunted down by the Emperor’s right-hand man, Darth Vader, and his band of Inquisitors.” The bartender visibly shuddered.
Qui-Gon sat back, appalled. This vision was growing darker by the minute. It seemed impossible to even consider that the entire Jedi Order was gone. A cold weight settled in the pit of the Jedi Master’s stomach. He couldn’t imagine the murder of so many Jedi Knights, Padawans, and…Younglings if what the bartender said was true. It was too horrific to even think about. Even the Force recoiled away from such painful thoughts.
“There are no surviving Jedi?” Qui-Gon asked, almost desperately. Inside his mind, the Force was screaming, roiling in distress. There was so much loss and pain in this reality. Qui-Gon realized with a start why the Force seemed subdued and reticent here . There were no Jedi in the galaxy. The death of so many Force Sensitives had sent the Force into grieving secrecy.
The bartender sighed. “It’s been years since the Empire broadcasted an uncovered Jedi. I’m afraid their Order is gone, my friend. The Force has left this galaxy.”
Qui-Gon shuddered and reached for the Force. He wanted to return to reality. This vision was quite enough. There was nothing to learn in this torture of a world. Everything in this galaxy seemed cold and dark. The Force itself appeared heavy and veiled. It was confusing to peruse.
The Dark Side reigned here.
But the Force, although skittish, offered a passing thought.
Fear not, my young friend. The Force has willed you to be here. Focus on this moment and the Force will take care of the rest in its own time.
Those were the words he had comforted Anakin with. They comforted him as well. Live in the moment , he scolded himself. The Force didn’t ever truly abandon anyone. It was as old as time itself and its time worked differently. He just needed to be patient until the Force revealed its intentions.
The bartender offered him a sad smile. “There is, however, an old man that lives somewhere out near the Jundland Wastes. The locals call him Crazy Old Ben. They say he’s a wizard, able to move things without touching them, calm down blood-thirsty beasts with the touch of a hand, and predict the comings of sandstorms. It’s all just nonsense, of course. The poor man is probably insane from living alone out in the desert. But there are rumors…”
Qui-Gon sighed, “Rumors do no good if they aren’t the truth. They are best forgotten. But perhaps I shall speak to this Old Ben.”
The bartender nodded, “Good luck on your travels then, my friend. I hope you find what you’re looking for. Stay out of trouble and keep your mouth shut out there.”
Qui-Gon nodded in return and stood up, only to freeze and look back. “This Old Ben wouldn’t also go by the same alias as B’omar, would he?”
The bartender halted in surprise and shook his head. “No. As far as I know, Old Ben doesn’t mill about in his speeder terrorizing the locals. You know B’omar?”
Qui-Gon grimaced. “I seem to have met him. He offered me a ride here.”
The bartender grinned, “Ah, apologies then. B’omar is my uncle. The poor old man has lost his head, you know. I let him have the speeder so he stays away from my customers. He puts off everyone he meets.”
Qui-Gon nodded, “Well, thank-you for relating the news. It seems there is much to get used to”
The owner of the Cantina dipped his head and turned to serve another customer.
Qui-Gon sighed as he stepped out of the dim Cantina and into the bright Tatooine air. Mos Espa was as crowded and treacherous as ever. The Force vision held no signs of letting up. Apparently he was right, then, to suspect he would have to find this Crazy Old Ben. Perhaps the hermit would have some answers for this confusing riddle of a revelation.
It was very difficult to ask for directions in such a place as Mos Espa. The travelers moving about had no time to point out the direction of the Jundland Wastes and were even more opposed to taking Qui-Gon there. Apparently the area was ripe with Tusken Raiders and there was almost no life there. Ironic for a desert scene but Qui-Gon didn’t argue.
He was about to give up asking various shopkeepers and locals when an old woman beckoned him to her run-down stall. Good-naturedly, she drew him an almost unreadable map in the sand and directed the path he should take to get there without hassle. However, she warned, the Sand People flood the Wastes there. It was almost suicide to traverse the plains.
The Jedi Master thanked her with a humble bow and began to wander the streets. The Force seemed more inclined to guide him now after he had accepted the fact that he was stuck in this vision. So it wasn’t long waiting until a familiar old speeder hustled recklessly through the streets of the port city. Qui-Gon awaited it with a half-smile.
B’omar peered at him from the speeder with a wide grin. “Hello there, Qui-Jinny. So happy to see you.”
Qui-Gon nodded, “Yes. I need to borrow your speeder, B’omar.”
The old man gave him a confused look, “Sorry, Qui-Jinny but I don’t understand-”
Qui-Gon waved his hand knowingly, wrapping the Force around his words and drawing deeply on the old man’s conscious mind. “Yes you do. You want to give me your speeder.”
B’omar nodded, eyes glazed as the Force gently twisted his will, “I want to give you my speeder.”
Qui-Gon nodded gratefully.
Now the journey seemed to fly much smoother. The Force was satisfied that the Jedi Master was following its guidance. The speeder flashed along the Tatooine desert ground, aided by Qui-Gon’s steering and the Force pushing it along firmly like the wind in a sail.
The bright Tatooine sky was almost blinding as it reflected the light of the twin suns onto the white deserts of the planet. It was almost lonely surrounded by nothing but dirt on all sides. Everywhere he looked there was only sand and sand dunes. But Qui-Gon was content.
Wrapped in the tendrils of the Living Force, the Jedi Master lived in this moment. He was focused not on reaching this Old Ben, but on the gentle humming of the speeder and the aura of peace that settled on him from the Force.
It was because he was so wrapped in the Force that he felt a twinge as it warned him of danger. Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped ahead, scanning the Tatooine desert for peril. His body tensed and he moved aside impossibly fast as the bullet struck the spot he had just been sitting in.
The Jedi Master leaped out of the still-moving speeder, drawing his lightsaber from his belt in the split-second it took him to land. More shots came and Qui-Gon furiously repelled the bullets with his saber. The twirl of the blade was deadly accurate and sure. He was ensconced so deeply in the Force that he could predict the next hit of every bolt as they came inches away from hitting him.
At last the Tuskens made their appearance, scrambling quickly out from various sand hills and rock structures they had so skillfully hidden in. They raised their rifles and sticks high into the air, letting out victorious shouts as they launched themselves at their next victim.
Qui-Gon raised his saber determinedly.
The scream that followed wasn’t a Tusken war cry.
It was a chilling shriek, so loud that the ground rumbled beneath their feet, shifting pebbles and sand as the glorious cry crescendoed unbearably loudly. Qui-Gon shuddered as the painful screech reverberated through his ear drums. Silence descended suddenly as the sound abruptly cut out, trembling at the sheer brilliance of the roar.
The Tuskens froze almost comically and then scattered with fearful yelps and shouts as they rushed in painful, dizzying circles trying to find safety. They disappeared back into the holes they came from, and all at once the Jedi Master was left alone.
Qui-Gon’s heart pounded. The roar belonged to something immense and dangerous. The people of Mos Espa feared the Tusken Raiders, but the sand people feared something greater. And with good reason, Qui Gon thought as his memory replayed the splintering scream.
The Jedi Master waited for the ground to rumble with the thundering steps of some large beast. But there was no sound in the sweltering desert. The warm Tatooine breezes continued to whirl about as if the balance of life hadn’t been disrupted by that great cry. Qui-Gon peered into the bright desert landscape as a small figure ambled slowly down the rocks and sand ahead.
The Jedi Master took a step forward, wondering if he should warn the figure of the great beast, but the Force hushed him softly.
The figure moved steadily on until Qui-Gon could make out the shape of a cloaked humanoid.
The individual halted a good few meters away and stood still, watching the Jedi Master for a few quiet moments. Hands lifted from the heavy folds of the cloak and pushed the cowl off a wizened, aged face.
“Hello there,” the figure said with a knowing smile.