Jedi Apprentice 3: The Hidden Past

"What about Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon barked impatiently.

"I am trying to tell you," Duenna said. "I have never seen them act so fast. He? he was taken to a cell."

"Where?" Qui-Gon asked urgently.

"He is there no longer," Duenna said, laying a gentle hand on his arm. Suddenly, Qui-Gon noticed that here eyes were full of pity for him. His heart fell.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely.

"He was renewed," she said, her voice breaking. "Last night. And transported off-planet at dawn this morning."

Paxxi and Guerra peered around the corner into the room where Qui-Gon sat, eyes front, cross-legged, not moving. Duenna had to return to headquarters, so they had gone straight to Kaadi's house. Being on the streets was dangerous during the day.

As soon as they entered the house, Qui-Gon had gone to the spare room where they slept. He sat down in the middle of the floor, not speaking. He had remained there for an hour. The brothers had left him alone for a time, but he could feel their anxious eyes on him.

Without opening his eyes, he said, "I'm not giving up. I'm forming a plan."

"Of course, Jedi-Gon," Guerra said, relief coursing through his voice. "We knew this."

"Yes so," Paxxi agreed. "We know Jedi do not give up. Although, we must admit we worried a tiny bit. It is such bad news about our friend Obawan."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes. He saw the same haunted desperation in the eyes of the Derida brothers that he felt in his heart. He had had to struggle to overcome his anger at himself. It had taken time to calm his mind. Time and again he had tried to formulate a plan, only to be filled with anguish at the thought of Obi-Wan's plight. He was rocked to the core. The thought of Obi-wan without his memory, without his training, was unbearable.

He had failed his Padawan. He should have known the Syndicat would move fast. He should have tried to rescue him last night. Now Obi-Wan was doomed to a life so empty it made Qui-Gon shudder every time he tried to conceive of it.

What of Obi-Wan's Jedi training? All of that, lost. What would the boy become? He would still be Force-sensitive, for the Force was not dependent on memory. But how could Obi-Wan use it without the lessons of the Temple to guide him? If he discovered its power, he would have it without allegiance. Would he become a lost, neutral warrior for hire? Would he use the Force for darkness, like Qui-Gon's old apprentice, Xanatos?

He did not believe that could happen. He would not believe it. If Obi-Wan had lost his memory, surely he would still retain his goodness.

Yes, Qui-Gon was full of worry. But he was also heartbroken. The boy he knew was gone. The diligent boy, so curious and intent on knowledge. The quick study. The boy who wanted to learn.

Qui-Gon refused to believe that all that was gone. He had to hope still that somehow the memory wipe would be reversible, if he could find Obi-Wan.

"And so what are you thinking, Jedi-Gon?" Guerra asked tentatively.

"We must act tomorrow," Qui-Gon said. "We must break them wide open. What better time to act then when they are trying to impress Prince Beju? First of all, they will be distracted. And second, we can destroy their alliance with the Prince before it even begins."

"It is true so," Paxxi breathed.

"We must open the warehouses when the Prince arrives," Qui-Gon said quietly. He had formed the plan in his mind, and he believed it could be done. "Can Kaddi rally the people?"

"Yes so," Guerra said, nodding.

"That will be our diversion," Qui-Gon said. "The people will rush into the warehouses. The Syndicat will panic. There will be chaos in the streets. We will go straight to headquarters with the anti-register device. That's when we'll steal the treasury."

"In the daytime?" Paxxi asked. "But it will be dangerous. And Duenna cannot help us then."

Qui-Gon turned to look at them. His blue eyes burned across the room. "Are you with me?" he asked.

The two brothers looked at each other. "Yes, so," they said together.

Chapter 15

The hum from the engines underneath Obi-Wan throbbed against his skull. He had been thrown on the floor of the transport, locked into cargo hold. He kept his eyes closed. He had to keep his concentration strong. He felt completely drained. Exhausted. Sick.

But he remembered.

They had not broken him. They had not won.

They had entered, and he hadn't even looked up, not even when they laughed at him. He slipped the river stone into the pocket of his tunic quickly, so they would not see it and take it away. The stone kept a steady glow of heat against his heart. He had drawn strength from it. It was tangible proof that the Force was with him.

While they set up the memory-wipe droid, he had built Force walls inside himself. He had enshrined every memory, even the haziest one. He had embraced the painful with the good.

His first day at the Temple. He had been so young, so frightened. His first glimpse of Yoda, coming forward to greet him, his heavy-lidded eyes looking sleepy. "Far to come, far to go it is," he had said. "Cold and warm, it is. Seek what you are looking for, you will. Find it here, you shall. Listen."

The sound of the fountains. The river that ran behind the Temple. The chimes that the cook had hung in a tree in the kitchen gardens. He had noticed those things then, and something in him had uncurled. He had thought, for the first time, that he could feel at home there.

A good memory.

Twin metal rods were screwed against his temples. The electro-pulsers.

The stone glowed against his heart.

A visit home. His mother. Softness and light. His father. A laugh, full-bodied, joined by his mother's, just as full, just as rich. His brother, sharing a piece of fruit with him. The explosion of sweet juice in his mouth. Soft grasses underneath his bare feet.

The droid activated the memory wipe while the guards watched. A strange sensation began in his temples and moved inward. Not pain, not quite…