The Most Dangerous Game
by RushlightPart 1
The sun had already started to set when Qui-Gon Jinn entered the sweeping chamber that housed the seats of the Jedi Council. Broad windows overlooked the Temple courtyard below, giving him an excellent view of the symphony of colors that painted the horizon - orange and crimson, berry, mauve, and gold, fading at the upper regions into the first brushstrokes of deepening purple. Around him, the room was filled with chasing shadows.
A brazier at the far end of the chamber burst into guttering flame, drawing his attention to the two figures that stood underneath it. One was tall and dark, the other short and wizened. The shorter one's small, green hand held the end of a crooked walking stick.
"Came quickly, you did," Yoda said, with approval in his voice.
Qui-Gon allowed himself a small smile, approaching the two Masters with slow strides. "When my superiors beckon, I can do naught but follow."
Mace Windu gave a delicate snort.
Yoda ignored the comment. "Have need of you, we do. Judge you that your padawans are ready?"
Instantly, Qui-Gon sobered. It had been almost three months since Master Garinham's death, when he had taken on the responsibility of training the Master's grief-stricken and headstrong apprentice. The last few months had been filled with the challenge of adjustment for all parties concerned, and it had not been a smooth road to follow. Although there was definite promise to this newly formed partnership that could not be denied, they were far from the point where they would be able to function as a cohesive unit.
"Their training is progressing satisfactorily," he said carefully, not wanting to disparage the hard work that his padawans had put into making this triad work.
The gleam in Yoda's eyes said he understood full well the things that Qui-Gon could not bring himself to say. "Difficulties you have had. Expected, this is. No shame is there for you in it. Harmony will come in time."
"But time is something we don't have at the moment," Windu spoke up, his dark eyes intent as Qui-Gon turned to meet them. "There's a situation on Bealial that requires immediate attention. Despite the fragile state of your newly formed bond with Jerjenna, she is uniquely qualified to deal with this threat."
Qui-Gon was silent. Bealial was a scientific outpost at the fringe of Republic space, positioned at the borderline between the Republic's trading routes and the Outer Rim. It was a primeval paradise, filled with lush jungles, steamy tropics, and an abundance of unruly wildlife. What drew scientists to the planet was its vast fossil history, which marked it as unique among the cosmos because of its divergent evolutionary patterns. Qui-Gon was not familiar with the details of their findings, but he knew that many of the Republic's top scientists had taken tenures there. It was almost a rite of passage for them, despite the danger of the planet's deadly predators.
Jerjenna's "qualifications" for this mission were ambiguous at best. She came from a world called Eoai, a harsh, unforgiving realm where monstrous predators stalked the wild regions and even the ecosystem did its best to kill. It was a world that did not forgive weakness, and its inhabitants learned quickly that survival carries its own kind of penance. Such an upbringing would, perhaps, equip her to deal with the monsters that stalked the forests of Bealial, but it had all been long ago...
Qui-Gon's expression must have alerted the Council members to his misgivings about the mission being presented, because the look in Mace's eyes darkened considerably. "It's an emergency," the Council Leader said. "Otherwise we would never even consider asking you to remove her from Coruscant. We know that her training is at a very delicate stage, and we would prefer to keep her where she can be watched closely. But if we do not act quickly, hundreds of thousands will die."
*They still don't trust her,* Qui-Gon thought, reading the words not spoken. He felt a stirring of resentment at that, but swiftly suppressed it. It was the Council's job to be wary of their students' loyalty to the Light, and Jerjenna was more unpredictable than most.
"What happened?" he asked, choosing instead to focus on the problem at hand.
"A transport vessel carrying plague vaccines was on its way to Rualyn when minor gravity fluctuations from a nearby ion storm caused a fault in the ship's main damper. The vessel lost control and spiraled down into Bealial's atmosphere. We've had no contact from it in more than twenty hours." Mace's expression was grim. "Those vaccines are vital to Rualyn's future, Qui-Gon. Hundreds are dying every day."
Qui-Gon felt a pang of empathy for the citizens of Rualyn. He knew first-hand how devastating the effects of plague could be, and how difficult these particular vaccines were to come by. "When do we leave?" he said quietly, without bothering to tell them he accepted the mission. There was really no point.
Yoda grunted in what may have been approval, but his next words were cautioning. "Be sure of this before you accept. Dangerous it will be. If not ready you are, then failure you can expect."
"And in this case, failure would undoubtedly mean death," Mace added, his voice low.
"We're ready," Qui-Gon said firmly. He never would have been asked if the Council members did not believe that Qui-Gon and his padawans were the best-qualified team for the job. People were dying, and speed was their only weapon.
They had better be ready.
Qui-Gon was greeted by a harsh clack-clacking noise as he returned home. He followed the rousing sound around to the back of his little apartment, where he found his padawans engaged in a lively bout in the practice yard. Hovering at the edge of the yard, he observed them for a moment, unnoticed.
They were fighting with Tal'Chi staffs, battering away at each other with quiet frenzy, pressing each other to the limit as they moved in the carefully controlled patterns that they had been taught. Obi-Wan, while five years Jerjenna's senior, was new to this weapon, and it showed in the strained concentration of his movements. Jerjenna, on the other hand, moved with lithesome grace, long black Padawan braid flying out behind her as she swirled, bringing up her staff in a powerful, sweeping blow that Obi-Wan barely blocked.
They were beautiful to behold. Qui-Gon watched with subdued pleasure as the match drew to its inevitable conclusion, Jerjenna's staff sweeping Obi-Wan's feet out from under him and knocking his staff from nerveless fingers on the return stroke. Qui-Gon chuckled at the look of consternation on Obi-Wan's face as he gazed up at her from his new position on the ground.
The sound made them aware of his presence, and he felt a dual wave of warmth and welcome wash over him through their training bond. Stepping out of the shadows of the wall, he walked toward them.
Jerjenna extended a hand to help Obi-Wan to his feet, which he accepted with good grace. "I'll beat you yet," he promised with a wry grin, adding, "Tomorrow it'll be a 'saber match."
Jerjenna grimaced. Obi-Wan was the reigning 'saber champion among the padawans in the Temple, and she invariably walked away from their practice sessions with more bruises than victories. She had a long way to go to reach his level of proficiency in that particular weapon.
Qui-Gon watched the exchange with ill-concealed humor, making a show of taking in Obi-Wan's rumpled appearance. Obi-Wan flushed lightly and straightened his tunic, tucking his thin braid back behind his ear.
"It seems that more practice is required, Padawan," Qui-Gon said with a rumble of amusement. It wasn't often that he saw his elder padawan so discomfited. Come to think of it, only Jerjenna could break through his carefully contrived shield of Jedi passivity - usually with minimal effort.
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, sounding rueful.
"Would you like to test your skills against me?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice soft.
Obi-Wan's eyes brightened. He loved engaging Qui-Gon in mock battles. They had been Master and padawan for more than ten years now, but he never tired of seeing that lean, strong body in motion.
Jerjenna ran to fetch her Master's staff, then moved to sit atop the low stone wall that enclosed their property, legs dangling. Her staff rested against her cheek, and she ran her fingers lovingly over the dark wood. Tal'Chi was the first artform that Master Garinham had ever taught her, in part because it relied more on intuition than on a memorized pattern of skills. They had spent many a sunny afternoon joining staffs in the practice yard behind their shared quarters. Then a joining of a different kind later in the day... Angrily, she brushed the back of one hand across her eyes. It was something she did not allow herself to think about.
Instead, she focused on the scene before her. Master Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan the ritual salute that preceded a match of Tal'Chi, which Obi-Wan returned. She had to smile at the picture they presented - two beautiful warriors preparing to engage each other in a millennium-old contest of skills. Once upon a time, Tal'Chi warriors had fought each other to the death for the amusement of the Peraltan aristocracy. Even further back in time, it had been the weapon of choice in their endless, bloody wars.
/Don't trip yourself with that thing,/ she sent, teasingly. Obi-Wan did not deign to answer her, but his thoughts were bright with amusement.
The elder Padawan moved easily into the First Form, holding his staff diagonally across the front of his body, one foot slightly behind the other, balancing lightly on his toes. His eyes were fixed on Qui-Gon with an air of predatory alertness. Every line of his lean body was fraught with carefully harnessed tension, waiting.
Qui-Gon uncoiled without warning, bringing his staff down in a double-handed blow to Obi-Wan's head. Obi-Wan skittered backward, surprised, raising his weapon in a frantic defense. The loud CRACK! as the weapons joined echoed throughout the yard.
Jerjenna frowned at the grimace of pain that flickered across Obi-Wan's face as his arms absorbed the blow. Qui-Gon gave him no pause to recover, long hair fanning out behind him as he spun, aiming a vicious slash at Obi-Wan's legs. Obi-Wan leapt back, barely avoiding the assault, and lifted his staff to block another blow. The ferocity of Qui-Gon's attack was completely unexpected, putting him entirely on the defensive.
Qui-Gon's expression was unreadable. Jerjenna reached out to touch his thoughts tentatively, a silent question. But his mind was closed to a narrow point of concentration; he was focused completely on the task in front of him.
Obi-Wan let out a small yelp as the end of Qui-Gon's staff nicked his ankle, and he stumbled, his balance offset. Qui-Gon pressed his advantage, tangling his staff between his opponent's calves and giving a vicious yank. Obi-Wan fell with a cry, his staff falling from his hands. His thoughts were a sudden burst of confusion and pain and fear.
Jerjenna moved without thinking, vaulting off the wall and sprinting across the yard before she even realized that she planned to do so. Qui-Gon was raising his weapon in a blow that could very likely cripple his helpless opponent; Obi-Wan did his best to slide backwards out of range, eyes wide in his suddenly pale face.
Jerjenna slipped under Qui-Gon's raised arms with alacrity, holding her staff with her hands wide-spaced and her elbows locked to absorb the impact of the blow. Even so, the force of it drove her down to one knee, and she grunted in pain as the jolt rattled through her. She stared up at Qui-Gon, meeting his gaze squarely, refusing to give in as he pressed her inexorably downward. Fury sang through her tautly held frame.
Abruptly, he took a step backwards and gave her an appraising look. She swayed, caught off-guard as the pressure on her extended arms was suddenly relieved, and steadied herself with one hand against the hard-packed dirt of the ground. She was breathing heavily.
"Well done, Jerjenna," Qui-Gon said.
She blinked up at him in surprise, feeling another irrational surge of anger. "You weren't testing Obi-Wan," she said indignantly. "You were testing me." She could feel Obi-Wan crouching behind her right shoulder, a silent shadow. His sense was strangely non-judgmental, and this only inflamed her further.
Qui-Gon regarded her coolly, refusing to back down in the face of her anger. Despite the emotion that he could feel surging like a slow tide within her, her face was calm, composed. Storm-blue eyes met his with an intensity that could easily be explained away by the strain of the match they had just undergone. Anyone looking at her would see only a padawan kneeling in calm deference to her Master, a little quizzical perhaps, but not defiant in any way. Only he knew the depth of her resistance to his mastery over her, and the struggle he had to undergo every day to keep hold of the tenuous trust she extended to him.
"Peace, Padawan," he said softly, reaching out one hand to touch his fingers to her cheek. She relaxed slightly under the caress. "You're right; it was a test. I hope my point has been made. Together, the two of you are a formidable team. Separate, you both fall prey to the wolves."
His colloquialism made her smile, and he allowed himself a shallow sigh of relief that yet another obstacle had been passed. Being Master to Jerjenna was rather like juggling with freshly sharpened knives. You never knew which end you were going to catch.
He dropped down to his knees, and they both moved into their usual meditative positions, kneeling at the points of an imaginary triangle and facing towards each other, close enough to touch. The normalcy of the action brought them all into focus, and a calming empathy thrummed through the bond that they shared.
"I'm sorry if I frightened you," Qui-Gon said, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "I merely wanted to drive my point home. We have been given a very important mission by the Council."
He felt a surge of excitement from Obi-Wan at this; the younger man hadn't particularly enjoyed being confined to Coruscant for the past few months. From Jerjenna, Qui-Gon could detect nothing at all. She was very good at shielding her feelings from him, when she wanted to.
He explained what Mace and Yoda had told him about the plague on Rualyn and the vaccine transport, and the subsequent crash on Bealial. Obi-Wan's excitement changed to sympathy and then to calm readiness. Jerjenna was still mutely unresponsive, and if anything, her non-responsiveness deepened when he mentioned the planet's name.
"What is it, Jerjenna?" he said, unwilling to accept her deliberate withdrawal from the conversation.
"Bealial," she replied, her voice flat. Just one word, but it spoke volumes to him. She was very clever, his padawan, a trait that he had come both to admire and be wary of over their past months together. He knew that she had deduced exactly why the Council had chosen them for this mission. Or, more specifically, chosen her.
There was no reason to lie to her. "The Council feels that your experiences on Eoai have uniquely prepared you to survive on Bealial."
Obi-Wan was incredulous. "You can't be serious, Master. She was only six years old when Master Garinham brought her here to Coruscant. The Council can't expect a few years in that kind of environment to prepare her for a mission like this."
Qui-Gon's eyes never left Jerjenna's. "The funny thing about instincts is that once they're learned, they're rarely forgotten."
She slid her gaze away from his, looking uncomfortable. "I was very young then."
Obi-Wan looked at her in silence for a moment. Then, "What was it like, Jeri?" It was something she had never talked about.
For a moment, he didn't think she was going to answer. "I don't remember much about my life on Eoai," she said at last, her voice hushed. She kept her gaze firmly affixed on the ground in front of her. "Just darkness, and cold, and being scared all the time. Scared and hungry. I...I ate out of dumpsters a lot after my parents died. I had to steal blankets, so I wouldn't freeze. I didn't have anywhere to live, so I slept in a different place every night, anywhere I could find where people wouldn't chase me away. At night, I could hear the animals out on the moors, hunting, killing. Sometimes they would come into the city, despite all the sensor nets and traps we had set up around our walls. Once, I saw a man get ripped apart by a pack of cho'hallas, right underneath the place where I hid." Her voice was strangely toneless as she recounted this. "But even that wasn't as bad as lying in the dark, hearing them, hearing the screams as they took down their prey, and feeling so profoundly glad of it because it meant that it wasn't me. Not this time."
There were tears in her eyes, although they didn't fall. Obi-Wan slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close in wordless sympathy. She folded against him, resting her forehead against the curve of his neck, and let herself be comforted.
"We haven't been ordered to go," Qui-Gon told her gently. "We have the option to refuse if-"
"No." When she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes were dry.
"Jerjenna-" Obi-Wan started to say, but stopped when her intense blue eyes met his.
"We are Jedi," she said simply. "What else can we do?"
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