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SURVIVAL

by: Skye

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Part I

Obi-Wan spun away from the pit, back toward the focus of his thoughts, of the source of the panic in his heart. Qui-Gon Jin lay still, in a crumpled heap where the last blow of the Sith had dropped him. The sight of the Lightsaber glowing through his Master's chest was as horrifying a sight as he'd seen.

It took only a few long strides to reach Qui-Gon. Dropping to his knees, Obi-Wan abandoned all pretense of Jedi dignity, of the Master and Padewan relationship. Sliding one hand gently under Qui-Gon's neck, he carefully gathered his mentor into his arms, cradling his head against his chest. One hand fell on the ruined chest, the laser burn still hot under his hand. The clothing was damp with sweat, chilled in the forced air of the palace, though the skin beneath still carried the heat of exertion. Qui-Gon still felt alive.

The chest moved slightly beneath his fingers. Qui-Gon was not yet dead, he realized with a start, with a faint surge of hope. "Master?" he breathed softly, hugging him close against his chest. Master?"

He was rewarded with a faint fluttering of eyelids, then the blue eyes opened. They were glazed and disoriented, but a touch from Obi-Wan oriented the older Jedi instantly. He struggled back from whatever limbo he was hovering in, fighting to regain clarity for at least a few more moment.

But the moments faded, and within moments, Qui-Gon lay lifeless across his knees. The lightsaber had struck him, had burned its way into his chest and completely through, its tip glowing brightly where it emerged from Qui-Gon's back. Obi-Wan had no illusions that such a wound could be survived. Through the vital organs of his Master's chest there was charring and weeping raw tissue. Plasma was already leaking from the wound, soaking into his sleeves and leggings. The stench of blood and burning bone was overwhelming, rising from the blackened hole in Qui-Gon's tunic. Obi-Wan shuddered anew, remembering that the hole traced straight through the broad, always so solid chest. How could he possibly live?

Holding his teacher's cooling body in his arms, Obi-Wan hugged him close for the last time, weeping.

The confrontation the throne room had been brief, and the conclusion just as the Queen had planned it. The Nemiodians were cowards when it came to direct physical confrontation. Without their droid army, their interest in fighting collapsed ingloriously and instantly. The Viceroy had been suitably cowed by Padme's blaster aimed directly at him. He and Nute Gunray were more than content to allow them control of the situation, now that the Sith was no longer present to guide them or force their hand.

The Queen had done her part in the routing the invasion, but there was more at stake than what was transpiring in the throne room.

"Activate the viewscreens," She snapped at Captain Panaka, very much the ruling persona now. Find out what's going on."

He hastened to do her bidding, and at his touch the viewscreens flickered to life. The scenes they revealed of the exterior world were totally confusing. The droids had frozen. The rebels were free to do as they pleased. The fight was over.

"I think we've won, Queen Amidala," The Captain ventured, voice tinged with amazement. "The droids are disabled."

Padme closed her eyes in a moment of relief, then opened them again and frowned. "Where are the Jedi and that-that thing they were confronting? They should be in the palace somewhere. Find them, Panaka."

He nodded, then began scanning the palace, flipping from screen to screen, but all he managed to find was stretches of empty corridor or corridors with frozen battle droids. He turned back to the young queen, waving one hand in frustration at the multiple screens, but she frowned and nodded at the empty viewscreens.

"Keep trying. They're here somewhere."

More moments passed as the view on the screen changed and changed again. Finally, a screen flicked into view, and away again before something registered in both the captain and the Queen's minds. "Wait, go back!" she demanded, but his hands were already adjusting the controls.

"That's the meltdown pit," he exclaimed. "They can't be in there." But the screen returned at that moment, revealing two small smudges where there should only be empty, laser-guarded corridor.

"Hang on," he muttered, then zoomed in on the smudges, enlarging the foreign specks, bringing them into view.

"Oh no," Amidala sighed. "Oh, no..Qui-Gon.."

Obi-Wan was easily visible on the screen now, his grief-stricken expression and shaking shoulders making clear that the Jedi Master sprawled across his knees was not going to rise. Qui-Gon lay limp, eyes closed, one motionless hand trailing across the cold floor in a gesture of lifelessness. Long legs stretched out beside Obi-Wan, one turned uncomfortably under the other in its laxness. Panaka touched the screen controls, and another angle flicked into view, this one revealing a scorched hole in the center of Qui-Gon's tunic.

"I think the Jedi is dead," whispered the Viceroy behind them. "The Sith has killed the Jedi Master."

"But the apprentice lives? Where is the Sith?" Gunray hissed back. "The Sith must be here. I do not want to take the responsibility for dis to the sennnnnate."

"Sith?" echoed Amidala? Is that what that was? Wherever he is, Viceroy, he will not help you now." The anger in Amidala's official 'Ruler of Naboo' voice warred with fear. "Captain." Queen Amidala turned to Panaka, mute appeal in her eyes. 'Make it not so. Make him be alive,' those eyes begged. "Help Qui-Gon," she asked softly, clearly shaken by what she had seen.

Will you be all right here, my Queen? I'll grab a med droid and a transport-"

"I'll be fine. These lizards are no further danger without their droids." She turned and slapped at a control panel, sending a door sliding open. "Go," she urged, pushing him toward the door. "Hurry."

A few terse words into a comlink, and Panaka made good use of the wide and empty corridors as he ran down them. Two others in the orange garb of the Naboo pilot appeared and joined him as he pelted down the corridor.

"Where are we going, Captain?" one man panted.

A quick glance as his new companion revealed one of the pilots from the space battle. "You're back? It's over?"

"It's over. The Neimorian ship exploded. Damndest thing I ever saw. It was blown up from inside, by a kid! By a ship piloted by a little kid!"

Panaka nearly tripped at that news. "Aniken?"

"I don't know his name. Short, blond, can fly a fighter like a-"

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine. He's with Rik Olie' Where are we going?"

"Meltdown pit," he gasped between strides. "The Jedi is down."

"The Jedi?" The pilot's stride faltered at that news. "The JEDI?"

"Qui-Gon Jin. The older one, not the apprentice."

There were no more words, no more questions; only running.

A med droid and transport was waiting at an intersection several levels below. "C'mon," Panaka snapped, and the droid hurried along behind them.

"Too slow," observed the pilot, who had dropped back to a panting walk, slowed by the droid's stiff-legged shuffle. Turning, he scooped up the droid as it passed him, setting it on the transport that hovered above the tile floor. "This is faster," he murmured as he shoved his weight into the transport, sending it skittering along in front of him as he picked up speed.

Panaka heard the lasers cycling before he reached the corridor. The Jedi were still within then, since the lasers were reacting to the presence of detected intruders. He hesitated a moment, then found the cutoff switch, slamming it home and reducing the deadly lasers to silence. The quiet vibrated in their ears, overwhelming in its contrast to the mechanized hum. The silence was broken only by a soft, shuddering intake of breath.

"Obi-Wan?" Panaka called softly. "Help is here."

There was no reply, only a repeat of the same quiet sound of weeping. They headed forward, around the melting pit toward the fallen Jedi. Qui-Gon lay in the same boneless posture he saw on the viewscreen, with head and shoulders cradled in Obi-Wan's arms. The apprentice did not acknowledge their approach, but continued to rock faintly, weeping as he held the body of his Master.

The Captain shook his head sadly, but the fighter pilot dropped to his knees beside them.

"Blaster?" he asked, reaching out to touch the charred cloth of the tunic.

".Lightsaber," came the soft reply.

"Deep?"

".Through.."

"Through what?"

Through.his chest. Out his back," Obi-wan advised him, voice flat and filled with misery. He turned away from him then, resting his cheek on Qui-Gon's forehead.

"How long ago."

"He's dead, Biggs," Panaka hissed. "Leave it."

"There's dead and then there's dead," the pilot snapped. "How long ago?" he demanded again, closing one hand over the apprentice's shoulder in an effort to gain his attention.

Obi-Wan shook his head. Time had no meaning now. He could not have told him how long he'd sat there with his Master.

The pilot reached to lift Qui-Gon's hand, then to slip his hand between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and touch his chest, his throat.

"Get down here, droid."

The droid slid from the transport, landing on the smooth floor with a clatter that echoed deafeningly in the quiet corridor.

"Look at him. Is he dead?"

"There is still life in the cells," he replied in a flat, metallic tone. If the brain has not starved for too long a time, there might be some action we can take. I cannot report if it will be successful."

"Do it." The droid shuffle forward obediently at his command as the pilot rose to his feet. "C'mon, kid," The spacer growled, pulling on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Put him down and let the droid do his job."

Startled, a tiny spark of hope rising through the nightmarish misery, Obi-Wan slid out from under Qui-Gon's head and shoulders, rising to back away. Panaka reached out to rest a hand on the younger Jedi's shoulder, but the gesture went unnoticed; Obi-Wan's attention was riveted completely on the actions of the droid.

"Have I your permission to treat this man?" it asked formally.

"Yes! Whatever you think might help him," Obi-wan urged him, voice rough with desperation. Just.help him."

The droid bent over the still form, checking, testing, injecting. It turned to a small box of supplies it brought with it and pulled forth a small canister and mask, which it set over Qui-Gon's nose and mouth. The cloth was pulled way from the wound and all three men flinched at the sight of the blackened hole disappearing under Qui-Gon's sternum.

Under, Obi-Wan realized suddenly. Beneath his heart! Not through!

"His breathing and circulation have been severely compromised. The lungs are badly damaged by their proximity to the laser, and continue to be so as the heat of the burn is still present. He is further damaged because there is not enough oxygen in his tissues, but the heart is intact and can beat if stimulated. It is unknown how long it has been still, but I do not think it has been very long as there is still electrical activity present, though too disorganized to encourage circulation. There is severe damage within the thoracic cage that will warrant intensive repair," the metallic voice concluded, as though the amount of work involved might have an impact on their decision.

Is he dead now?" asked Biggs.

"Yes."

"Can you get him back?"

"Back from where, sir?"

Can you make him undead?" demanded the pilot. "Can you get that heart beating again?"

"It might be possible, although I can offer no guarantees."

"Work fast. Talk less, droid."

"Yes sir. Immediately sir."

The droid bent over his patient, with various attachments unique to the medical droid coming in to play, with medications and the crackle of electricity that made Qui-Gon's body jerk in response.

Captain Panaka closed his hands tightly over Obi-Wan's arms, then moved one arm to encircle the smaller man's chest. Obi-Wan still strained forward, trembling in anxiety and fear and hope. "Let him work," hissed Panaka. "Let him work. Wait.."

After an eternity of a few moments, The droid straightened finally, then turned to face them. "His heart beats, but I cannot assure you of how long it will continue to do so. The damage is quite severe and will require many repairs if this unit is to continue to function."

Wrenching out of Captain Panaka's grasp, the young Jedi dropped to his knees beside his master. One trembling hand reached out to touch the ruined chest, feeling the miracle of a slight, ragged lift of the rib cage. New tears started to flow, but he could not indulge in relief yet. There was still the very strong chance that this miracle was only a temporary one.

"Where can we find medical care, Captain? Is there anyone in the city who can help him?"

"In camp 4. That's where they took the important prisoners."

"I'll get him," offered the pilot. "Have him back here quick. You get him to the medical unit."

Obi-Wan was once again cradling his Master's head in his arms. "Go. Hurry. The Force is very weak in him."

The pilot took off on a run, boots clattering on the smooth floor.

Panaka and Obi-Won carefully gathered Qui-Gon's long, limp body and gently lifted it to the transport. Once settled, they set the droid on the end by the Jedi's feet and began to head back toward the upper levels.

Obi-Wan trusted the Captain to get them to the place they needed. His entire focus was on Qui-Gon, on the force within him, whispering to him, sending him energy, coaxing him to remain with them, with life.

"Please, Qui-Gon, Please stay here. Don't leave."

~TBC~