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“What did he promise you?” Qui-gon asked.
Obi-wan blinked in confusion. Most of his mind was still on his datapad. He had been working on an assignment for his History of the Old Republic class, specifically about Exar Kun. He had been really focused, which was probably how Qui-gon had managed to return to the ship without him noticing. But even as he pulled his attention from his assignment, Qui-gon’s words still didn’t really make sense.
“What?” he asked.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Qui-gon growled, his eyes narrowing. “Answer me! How long have you been working for him? What did he promise you?”
With a little more context, Qui-gon’s words made more sense. But that small amount of sense just raised more questions. How had Qui-gon become so convinced Obi-wan was working for someone else? Who was that someone else? Why hadn’t Qui-gon asked Obi-wan anything previously?
“I am not working for anyone, Master,” Obi-wan protested. He allowed some of his offense to escape in his tone, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea. “I have no idea what you’re accusing me of.”
Qui-gon scoffed.
“If you won’t confess, you can get off my ship,” Qui-gon stated firmly.
“Master!” Obi-wan protested.
“No,” Qui-gon snapped. “I can’t deal with you right now.”
“But I haven’t done anything,” Obi-wan insisted.
“Get up,” Qui-gon ordered.
Qui-gon unhooked his lightsaber from his belt. A chill of fear ran up Obi-wan’s spine, and he obeyed slowly. Was Qui-gon actually threatening him? That had never happened before. It was then that Obi-wan realized the situation was deathly serious.
“Master, I swear I am loyal to the Order,” Obi-wan tried one more time. “Why don’t you trust me?”
“Because I know better,” Qui-gon stated. There was a certain madness in his eyes. No, not madness. Righteousness. He believed completely in his own correctness. His conclusions had been drawn, and nothing Obi-wan could say would shake him. “Now, get off my ship.”
“Please let me pack, first,” Obi-wan begged. If he was going to survive on an unfamiliar planet, he would need at least some supplies.
“You have five minutes,” Qui-gon allowed. “Then I want you gone.”
Obi-wan swallowed heavily. He picked up his datapad and skirted cautiously around Qui-gon. Once he was out of grabbing range, he dashed to his room. He had a small bag, which fit everything he had brought with him, and he threw it all back in. The datapad, his lightsaber, his two changes of clothes and his comm. He crammed his ration packs on top. His cloak, he threw over his shoulders. In less than five minutes, he was ready to go.
Physically, he was ready to go. Mentally, he was not. He paused at the top of the ramp, and looked at Qui-gon. Qui-gon was watching him coldly.
“Master, please don’t leave me,” Obi-wan begged.
“You should have thought about that before you decided to betray me,” Qui-gon gritted his teeth. “No go, Kenobi. Don’t make me tell you again.”
Qui-gon was still holding his lightsaber in his hand, ready to use.
“Won’t you at least tell me who you think I’m working for?” Obi-wan asked. He backed down the ramp cautiously as he did so, wary of making Qui-gon tell him to go again.
“Have some dignity, Kenobi,” Qui-gon scoffed.
Obi-wan turned away to hide the tears in his eyes. As he stepped off the ramp, it started to close. Head bowed, he made his way towards the exit to the rest of the space port. He heard the rumble of engines behind him and looked back. Through the blurry wetness in his eyes, he saw the ship lifting off, abandoning him. Obi-wan watched it vanish into the atmosphere. Even after it was gone, he continued to stare after it.
What else was there to do? Obi-wan had always been driven by his desire to help people. He had wanted to be a Jedi Knight to help people, but there was little chance of him becoming a Jedi Knight now. His master had abandoned him, and he had no hope of finding another. And there was no one in front of him who needed help, so he couldn’t latch onto that.
He swayed on his feet. He felt unsteady, adrift. He had no goal and no way to make a new one. He tried to imagine what he could do. He would need to find a job, because he would need credits for food. But he was still a child by the laws of most places, and he didn’t know if this one would give him a chance. He could go find some criminals, but he hesitated to work for criminals, even to survive. Or he could contact the Temple and wait to be retrieved, but he didn’t know if they wanted him now that his last chance had rejected him.
Part of him wanted to just fall to his knees and give up. He refused, but the call did not go away. Tears fell from his chin.
“Incredible,” Xanatos said from beside Obi-wan.
Obi-wan shrieked and jumped away, only to realize that it was just a droid. An astromech droid projecting a smug hologram of Xanatos, but it was a relief to realize the darksider wasn’t actually lurking next to him.
“I didn’t expect him to throw you out, little brother,” Xanatos continued with a little laugh. “I just wanted to make him suspicious of you.”
“Well, I guess you succeeded beyond your wildest dreams,” Obi-wan snapped. “I suppose you said I’m working for you?”
“Precisely,” Xanatos smirked. “It’s quite interesting he trust me so much more than he does you, don’t you think? You haven’t even fallen. Yet.”
Obi-wan glared at Xanatos, and then turned away. He wasn’t going to fall. But his best chance of that was to run away from wherever Xanatos could find him and hide. Getting captured by Xanatos would be dangerous, and they had both done the same assignment on how Ulric Quel Droma was tortured into falling.
“Where are you going, little brother?” Xanatos asked.
“Away,” Obi-wan answered shortly.
The droid turned to follow Obi-wan, but he outpaced it easily. All he needed now was to get off planet and survive long enough for his name to be cleared. He could probably comm his friend Quinlan for help…
A ship sparkled in the Force, and he turned to it. If he could just stow away on it, nobody would be able to track him. Then he could stow away on another ship, and another.