The all-over pain was fierce and constant - my head was literally throbbing, making me breathe in short, labored gasps the whole time. My head was fuzzy, my senses barely operating, a thick, dull haze weighing down mind, ears, and eyes. I tried propping myself up to look around, but my left arm was limp and didn't respond. All I could do was flop back onto my stomach and press my warm, moist forehead against the cool floor as I whimpered in agony. I moved my right leg and it brushed against something that clanked, something loose behind me and partially on top of me. Then, I remembered what I had been doing before hearing something explode, and tried again to push myself up. Master. Master, where are you? Obi-Wan? Oh no...

There was no sound, and no response in my mind. I tried again, this time mustering the Force and feebly calling into it for my Jedi friends as I collapsed back onto the floor. It was a weak, pathetic attempt at using the Force, but it was enough, because a moment later I heard - far away, and faint - Qui-Gon's voice shouting my name. I tried to yell back, but my throat burned and my voice failed before I could even get one "Master" out. I tried groaning instead, because it was easier and accurately conveyed exactly how I felt at that moment. There was a thud and some scraping of metal against metal, and then Qui-Gon, very nearby, calling, "Stacey?"

Whimpering, I managed to whisper, "Master," as a shaft of light streamed in from somewhere behind me, flickering and weaving back and forth. Qui-Gon had stopped calling, but I knew he was there, and waited impatiently for him to come and get me and make the pain go away. The swish of a lightsaber igniting filled the cramped, cluttered space in which I lay, and after a second's pause there came the tearing of metal and a loud crash. I flinched, afraid that the ceiling was going to collapse on top of me or something, but nothing happened. Light suddenly poured into the section of the corridor, illuminating what I had not been able to see before: the floor was not the floor, but rather the wall, and I was laying on top of a dark, non-functioning instrument panel that I distinctly remembered being about shoulder-high on me as I wandered through the ship. Before me, a tangle of blistered metal and wiring blocked all access to the rear compartments of the ship. Bits of the bulkhead and innards of instrument panels were strewn about, the nearest one lying a few inches from my left hand, which was dirty and scratched up. Heavy footsteps thudded behind me in urgency and Qui-Gon was at my side in an instant, his lightsaber put away and a glowing safety lamp in one hand. He dropped the lamp as he fell to his knees, and his arms came gently around me. "Stacey, are you all right?" he whispered worriedly. "Can you hear me?"

I whimpered again in response, so glad to have him there that I didn't know what else to say. His large hand came down gently on my head and smoothed my messy, tangled hair away from my face, so I could finally look up and see him. His face was smudged with dirt, but he looked otherwise all right. "Master," I whined, trying not to cry.

"Shh. Don't try to talk. I'll take care of you." Qui-Gon's face was drawn with concern, his brow furrowed deeply, his eyes black and sad in the weak light from the lamp. He reached for my shoulders to turn me over, but the moment he touched my left shoulder I cried out from the searing pain. His hand jerked back, but then carefully eased onto my back instead, his fingers feeling gently around the region even though it made me gasp and keen. "Your shoulder is dislocated," he diagnosed, his hushed voice loud in the stillness. "Don't move. It will be all right." He got up and moved some more rubble, which clanked and thudded behind me, and then lifted something off my legs. I felt a stab of pain in my calf after that. He crouched down on my other side, and his hands roamed over my body, feeling every bone and joint with great care. A warmth ran through me wherever he touched me, which I guessed was the Force as he used it to examine my injuries. He didn't tell me what he found, though, he only placed his hands where they would not cause me further pain and rolled me onto my back, cradling my head in his lap. I flinched and hissed at the pain, as different parts of my head started throbbing now. Qui-Gon brushed his fingertips along my forehead, avoiding the far left side for some reason. I wished he would wipe the sweat away, for the warm moisture was tickling my skin in a most annoying fashion, a drop of it coursing down the side of my face. "It should be safe to move you," he whispered, "but it may hurt quite a bit. We need to hurry, though. I have to get you out of here."

"M'kay," I mumbled, in no shape to argue.

Qui-Gon lowered my head back to the floor, then carefully picked up my left hand and rested my arm as comfortably as possible on my chest. He took a moment to adjust his position and then scooped me up in his arms, placing one beneath my back and the other under my knees. He got to his feet swiftly, pulling me into his chest and trying not to jostle my left shoulder, and then started back down the corridor the way he had come. I could see that the way to me had been mostly blocked by debris, some of which he had to cut out of the way with his lightsaber. Abandoning the safety lamp there, the Master deftly navigated the dark, rubble-choked corridor with his left shoulder going first, using his body to protect mine from any dangling wires, sharp corners, or other hazards. Despite his speed and care the journey was still excruciating, especially as my head continued to throb and my dislocated shoulder - now pressed against his chest - screamed with every nudge and shift. I gritted my teeth and endured it as best I could, though the pain brought tears to my eyes.

Shortly, Qui-Gon turned a corner and came to a great gaping hole in the ship's hull, through which bright light shone, and shouldered his way through a tangle of wires to the outside. He had to jump down to the ground, but with the Force's help he managed to do it lightly and with grace so as not to hurt me. It was then I saw that the ship had crash-landed on a strange planet, probably the one that had come up on scans as we were trying to escape. Just before Qui-Gon turned to spirit me away to safety, I got a glimpse of what was left of the Darkstar: a tangled mass of metal, skidded onto its side, still smoldering. Wisps of thick, black smoke trailed up into the sky from what used to be the engines, and the sand and dirt around the hulking carcass was scorched and blackened. Then, Qui-Gon's shoulder hid it from my view. I was content to lay my head on his arm, silently hoping he would hurry up and put me down, because the strain to my shoulder was unbearable.

The Master carried me far from the ship and up into a rocky canyon, where the rest of the survivors were sitting around, shading themselves from the sun. Obi-Wan came running even as Qui-Gon was lowering himself to his knees to put me down. His cry echoed from the rocks. "Stacey! No!"

The Padawan fell to his knees beside me as I slid out of Qui-Gon's arms with a bitter cry and sprawled on the ground. "Obi-Wan, get me some water, and the med kit," his Master ordered sharply.

"Yes, Master!" Obi-Wan said urgently, with a hint of a whimper in his voice. He scrambled to his feet and ran to obey, leaping straight over salvaged crates and stunned crew members.

Qui-Gon's huge thumb pressed on the left side of my forehead as he examined something, and I grimaced at the vicious stinging his ministrations provoked. Something was wrong with my head. He compensated by ceasing his harsh probing and resting his hand on my forehead instead. "It's going to be all right," he soothed. "Just relax. Everything will be fine." I squinted up at him, finding his legendary compassion gazing back. "You've just got a few cuts and bruises, and the shoulder. Nothing's broken that I can tell."

"Hurts," I whined, turning my head away from him. He softly cupped my cheek in his hand and caressed my lips with his thumb, his touch warm and tingling with the power of the Force. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. "It hurts so much. My head, my arm...my back..."

"I know. I know." Qui-Gon's eyes were filled with shared agony, but he mustered a faint smile to put me at ease. "Just lie still. You're safe now. We'll re-set your shoulder in a moment. Don't move." He looked up as Obi-Wan raced back to us, the med kit in one hand and a small plastic-like bottle in the other. The Master quickly shrugged his robe off his shoulders and rolled up the close-fit sleeves of his undertunic before reaching for the supplies. "Her left shoulder is dislocated and she has numerous cuts and bruises," he told his apprentice. "Let me clean this cut first, and then I'll need your help."

Obi-Wan nodded frantically, and then looked down at me. His soft hands, covered in dirt and grime, took my right hand and squeezed it comfortingly, though I lacked the strength to squeeze back. I tried to smile up at him, but it didn't work. Qui-Gon took a small swatch of gauzy cloth from the med kit and pressed it to the left side of my head, and I yelped at the pain it caused. When his hand came away, I saw an astonishing amount of blood on the cloth. I hadn't even felt the cut until he started touching it, but now its presence was horrifyingly clear. The Master palmed another cloth and laid his whole hand over my temple, keeping a constant pressure on the wound. I closed my eyes and tolerated it, though the pain made me moan. Obi-Wan reached over me for the water bottle he had brought and given to his Master, uncapping it and holding it to my lips. "Here, drink a little. You need this."

He tilted the bottle, letting a few drops of water trickle down my throat. It was lukewarm but felt so wonderful to my ravaged throat, as I had been inhaling smoke and fumes without knowing it while unconscious in the corridor. Obi-Wan took great care, not pouring too much at once, though the water dribbled a little and ran down my cheek. His blue eyes shone with fear, his youthful brow creased with concern. I drank as much as I could and then waved him off. "What happened?" I managed to ask.

"As far as I know, the ship took a direct hit," Qui-Gon answered in a murmur. "Fortunately, we were near to this planet and crash-landed before the ship could explode." The pressure of his hand eased a little, as he checked to see if the bleeding had stopped. "Obi-Wan and I were coming up to the cockpit when the blast knocked us off our feet. We managed to brace ourselves before the crash, so we're fine." He glanced over at his apprentice, who met his gaze and nodded slightly. Qui-Gon checked the wound again and then reached for the med kit. I saw the little bottle of antiseptic spray in his hand. "You were trying to get to our quarters?"

"The captain told me that was the safest place for me," I tried to explain, depressed at how weak and tired my voice sounded. Qui-Gon used one hand to shield my eyes as he tended to the cut on the side of my head, and I flinched at the sting of the spray. "I was...I was in the cockpit, but he sent me back. Said, if we had to make an emergency landing, I should be back where it's safe. I tried getting there, but..."

"It happened too quickly for you to get there," the Master finished for me. "It's all right. We haven't been able to get into that part of the ship yet, you might have been killed if you had been there." He picked out another item from the med kit, and this one felt cool and soothing as it hit the wound. The throbbing sensation started to abate, though my head still hurt.

A face appeared over me, as Captain Demilla stepped over and peered down. "How is she?"

Qui-Gon refused to look at him as he worked, his face just slightly dark with a frown. "She has a dislocated shoulder, cuts, lacerations...nothing is broken, though I can't be sure she doesn't have internal injuries."

"Internal?" I questioned with a scared whine.

"I don't think you do, but I won't be sure until we get you to a medical facility," he explained. "You'll be all right. We'll take care of you, get you the help you need."

"I don't know how," the captain said darkly. "This isn't exactly a safe and well-provisioned planet, you know. We're way out in the Outer Rim. Not to mention, my pursuer may land and come check to see whether we're all dead. We don't have much time."

Both Jedi looked up to him with disapproving scowls. "Then finish salvaging what you can off the ship and make preparations to leave," Qui-Gon ordered. "We'll take only what we need to survive and strike for the nearest settlement, as soon as we can."

"What about Jek? And her?" Demilla gestured to me. "They can't walk!"

"I will take care of that," Qui-Gon said sharply. "They need medical attention. Be thankful you only lost two men and have one seriously injured, it could have been much worse."

The captain made a face, but turned and left without further protest. Obi-Wan held the water bottle to my lips again. "He's right, Master, we shouldn't move the injured. We can make camp near here and stay hidden from pursuit, I volunteer to stay with them while you find help."

"I will deal with that in a moment," Qui-Gon demurred. "First, we must re-set Stacey's shoulder. After that, we will see what we can do for her and Jek."

The two Jedi worked together to sit me up and move me nearer to a large boulder that looked like a wall rising up out of the canyon. The Padawan settled himself on the ground while Qui-Gon lowered me to a sideways seat between his legs. Bracing himself against the rock, Obi-Wan wrapped himself around the right side of my body, one arm across my back and the other across my chest, crisscrossing down at my waist. He held me tightly in this peculiar embrace and nodded his readiness to Qui-Gon.

The Master met his Padawan's eyes first, then shifted his glance down to me as he lightly and carefully took my limp left arm in his hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, expecting it to hurt a lot. Little twinges of sharp pain already needled my shoulder as Qui-Gon maneuvered it into position and prepared for the one yank that would re-set the joint. Suddenly, I heard Obi-Wan's seductive, throaty whisper in my ear. "Oh love, if only we were alone..."

My eyes flew open at his words, but at the same time Qui-Gon pulled my arm and relocated it into the socket. "AAAGHHHH!!" I screamed, as I had never, ever felt that intense a pain before. It was over in an instant, but that instant overloaded my senses. Tears ran down my face as I gulped for air, trying to steel myself against the throbbing in my shoulder, but it was no use. I broke down completely, laying my head against Obi-Wan's chest as I cried out my frustration and pain.

Obi-Wan's hold became comforting as he rested his cheek against the top of my head and soothingly murmured, "Shh, it's all right, now. You're going to be all right."

"It hurts, it hurts!" I sobbed. I was vaguely aware that Qui-Gon still knelt on the ground beside me, but right now all I could think about was the way the pain shot in icy needles through my arm. The strain and my jangled nerves made me tremble like a leaf in Obi-Wan's arms.

There was a rustling of clothing beside me. I peeked open my eyes and saw Qui-Gon pulling one of the tabard-pieces of his tunics out from under the sash around his waist. He leaned over and gingerly wrapped the length of soft, lightweight fabric around my wrist once, and then pulled the ends up behind my head and tied them together, forming a makeshift sling. "There," he said in a calming purr. "That should keep you from using it until it heals. Take care," he advised, giving my cheek a brief caress with his thumb before withdrawing, "and don't move much. Lie down and rest. We will take care of you, all right?"

I nodded and sniffled. It still hurt, as did my head, my back, and spots all up and down my body and legs, but his gentle assurance and Obi-Wan's protective embrace made me feel like everything was indeed going to be all right. Qui-Gon leaned in close to his apprentice and murmured, "Get her to lie down, and don't move her. Until we know whether she has any other injuries, we shouldn't move her much. And stay with her."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan breathed in response, nodding. His Master stood up and strode briskly away from us, acting every bit the assured, indifferent Jedi despite the aching worry he must have felt. I couldn't sense anything from him, but I was in no shape to even try. Obi-Wan held me still for a while, cradling me in his arms, until I stopped sniffling and just lay there against his chest, limp and breathing heavily from the incessant pain. My shoulder still throbbed, but in a different way now. After a time, I felt the Padawan shift himself forward and snake his right arm underneath my knees. His other arm came around my back, and without warning, he took a breath and pushed to his feet with me in his arms. I clutched a fistful of his tunics to keep steady, while he stepped carefully over the rocks to a sheltered overhang, concentrating studiously on the Force and his path. I wasn't light, and I knew it, but he didn't complain as he carried me to the shade and protection of the jutting overhang of rock and laid me down on a smooth shingle, near to the other injured man from the crew. "There," Obi-Wan sighed, with some satisfaction. "This is a good spot. Stay still, now. Don't move." He placed a hand on top of my left, which lay on my chest as forced by the sling.

I nodded vaguely, closing my eyes against the brightness of the daylight. After a moment his touch left my hand, and I heard a scrape of his boot as he stepped away from me. I wanted to know what was going on, but it took me a while to muster the strength to take stock of my surroundings. Even though my whole body still pulsed with pain and a haze muffled my senses, I pushed past it and forced my eyes open to look around. Whatever planet this was, we had crashed in a desert region, I guessed, for the air was scorchingly hot and dry. Every breath I took seared my throat. The survivors had gathered in a rocky canyon to shelter from the sun, though all around and between the rocks lay a fine, dusty sand, gritty grains of which stung me whenever the wind would pick up. Apart from the hiss of the wind in the sand, I could hear nothing beyond the makeshift encampment. Nearer to me, dirt- and grease-streaked crew members hauled crates and barrels that they had salvaged from the ship into a pile they could guard well. Occasionally, someone would come up the freshly-worn track from the ship to the pile and toss in some bit of flotsam that could be reused, a seat cushion here, an electronics panel there. Captain Demilla stood in head-to-head discussion with Qui-Gon, the words which passed between them known only to them. Obi-Wan paced near me, as if torn between keeping guard over me as ordered and going to help the salvage crew. His eyes strayed over the ground in front of his boots, though every once in a while they would shift upward and away, searching toward his Master.

The brightness of the sun on the sand made my head hurt even more, so I looked away, groaning a little from the constant pain lurking at the edge of my senses. Not three feet from me lay the man called Jek, also moaning in pain, his clothes bloody and torn but everything appearing intact. Booted footsteps scratched closer to us, and I winced upward as Captain Demilla and Master Qui-Gon came near. The latter paused to lay a hand on his apprentice's arm, some sentiment passing wordlessly between them, while the captain knelt down by his crewman. "How are you doing, Jek?"

"Not so good, Yon," the man groaned. "Gersh?"

Demilla's head drooped, making his long hair tumble into his eyes. "Dead. The explosion killed him instantly." Jek closed his eyes in acknowledgement. "Don't worry about it, just rest up. We're going to get you some help, somehow." The captain's head turned to regard me, and his dark eyes softened with an anxious look. "I hope you know how sorry I am that this happened while you were on board."

"There is no time for regret," Qui-Gon broke in, his voice deep with empathy. "There is much we have to do, here, before we can strike out for help."

Captain Demilla pushed himself to his feet. "I have to deal with Gersh. We have to burn his body or bury him or something," he insisted. "You can't just leave him to be dragged away by Tusken Raiders."

Despite the pain I jerked my head up upon hearing that. "Tusken Raiders!" I cried. Where the hell are we?

"Natives," the pilot explained with a hint of disgust. Turning back to Qui-Gon, he repeated his insistent plea. "I won't have Sandpeople picking through his clothes or worse."

"We will take care of that first," Qui-Gon assured, "but we must start for the settlement as quickly as possible. We have two injured persons who need attention immediately."

I laid my head back down carefully and winced. The superheated air, the sand and rocks, and Tusken Raiders. Oh my gosh, we've crashed on Tatooine. Ohhhhhhh... I lashed out mentally with a stream of cuss words that would have made the Force blush.

Demilla kept talking as he started away. "I'll leave at least one of my crew here with Kenobi, to guard the ship from scavengers. And hopefully my pursuer won't come down here looking for us - hopefully scanning the burning wreckage of the Darkstar from space will satisfy him..."

They moved out of audible range, putting an end to my eavesdropping. I squinted up at the robed figure standing over me. "Obi-Wan? Can you tell me...how many suns are in the sky?"

Obi-Wan gave me a curious look, but did as I asked of him and looked up, shading his eyes with a hand. "Actually, there are two," he replied casually. "This planet is in a binary system."

I groaned. "I knew it." He gave me that puzzled look again, but I didn't tell him what I was thinking. We're on Tatooine.

"I didn't hear the captain say what planet we've landed on," Obi-Wan continued, scanning the horizon in a slow sweep. "I've never been here before, wherever it is. All I know is that it's somewhere in the Outer Rim."

I snorted a little. If the future was not changed by our being here, then in two years' time he would be calling this same place "small, out of the way, poor." I decided, then, that I would not share my knowledge with him, at risk to ruining more than just that classic line that my friends and I already had memorized. The captain or the Master would probably ruin the surprise soon enough anyway.

Demilla gathered his men around him over by the salvage pile, but I couldn't hear what he said to them from my position. My head pounded with every beat of my heart, anyway, making it hard to concentrate. Qui-Gon walked around them slowly, but then left them and came back to me and Obi-Wan, dropping to a crouch beside me and cupping his hand under my cheek. "You're still in a lot of pain," he observed with a brush of the Force against me.

"Uh huh," I whimpered, reaching up with my free hand to grab a fistful of his robe, just to feel some part of him for comfort.

"Obi-Wan. Where did the med kit go?"

Obi-Wan straightened up to attention. "I'll go and get it."

The Master nodded his thanks and returned his sorrowful gaze to me. "Don't worry," he purred in a half-whisper, "we're going to take care of you. But it may take some time."

"Are we near any cities?" I had to ask, both wanting and afraid of the answer.

"The captain managed to put us down near a place called Anchorhead," Qui-Gon continued in that soft whisper. "He claims to have contacts there." His eyes went to the bandaged cut on my forehead, and his fingertips gently stroked my hair back from it. "He and I, and most of the crew, are going to start for this settlement closer to sunset, when the heat goes down some. Obi-Wan is going to stay here with you and Jek, and protect you until we return. All right?"

The Padawan came back over just in time to hear this last part, holding the med kit out. Qui-Gon took it and peered inside. "How far is this settlement?" Obi-Wan questioned.

Qui-Gon took something from the kit and set the rest of it aside. "It's going to take us most of the night to hike there across the desert. You'll have to keep watch through the night and likely most of tomorrow, Padawan. Captain Demilla will leave one of his crew here to help you." Obi-Wan nodded his acceptance of the arrangement. His Master unwrapped the small thing he had taken from the med kit and held it out to me. "Here, chew on this but don't swallow it."

I eyed the brown nugget in his fingers suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Salacil. It's a mild painkiller."

Unsure I wanted to trust him, I took the papery wad and popped it in my mouth like gum. The first bite exuded the nastiest, bitter essence, and I recoiled. "Ugh! It tastes disgusting!"

"I know," Qui-Gon said with the tiniest hint of a smile, "but it will take the edge off the pain, especially that of your shoulder. Chew it until the bitterness goes away and then get rid of it. It's all we have, for now."

"Okay," I stammered, forcing myself to keep chewing, my nose wrinkled up in disgust. Beyond me, Obi-Wan went to offer some to Jek as well, but he turned it down, saying he was all right.

The Master laid his hand on top of my immobile left one, and gave it a light, tentative squeeze. "You're being very brave, in the face of what happened to us. My heart aches to see you like this."

I let my other hand wander onto his knee, caressing him comfortingly. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt at all?"

He lowered his eyes and seemed almost to blush. "I was briefly knocked unconscious by the impact, but there is no lasting injury. Other than that, neither of us suffered so much as a scratch. Most of the crew is all right, but for cuts and bruises."

I nodded to him, but instead of saying anything, my dry, ravaged throat convulsed in a weak cough. Qui-Gon reached for the bottle which Obi-Wan had also brought over and dripped a little water into my mouth. His Padawan's movement just beside him caught his attention as he finished, and I swallowed despite the bitter taste of the salacil. "Stay here with them. I will go and help the crew salvage what's left of the ship. I think the Bothans made a way into the rear compartments."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan shouldered out of his dusty robe and rolled it into as small a parcel as he could, which he slipped under my head. I smiled at him as he sat down beside me, and closed my eyes against the sunlight once more, content to rest and suck the medication out of the knot of salacil between my teeth. I studiously kept from thinking about where we were, though every once in a while my mind lingered on some memory of one or another of the movies, and of all the incredible things that would happen on this armpit of a planet in the future.

One of the binary suns was starting to sink below the horizon, but plenty of daylight remained for the crew to strip the Darkstar of any last undamaged cargo and supplies. I could hear urgent things being said nearby about water, and later someone said something about what could be burned for a fire. A voice I recognized as the Zabrak copilot vehemently insisted he ought to stay with the ship, saying he was used to harsh conditions and could manage the survival of those left behind. The first sun had set, cutting the light and heat in half, when a shout from across the canyon made me struggle to open my eyes. Qui-Gon was striding towards us, a mildly triumphant smile on his rugged face and his arms piled with some very familiar cargo. I managed to prop myself up on my right elbow and gave a weak exclamation when I saw what he had. "You found it..."

"Our crew cabin was undamaged," he explained as he knelt beside me, "but getting to it was the hard part. Here is your bag, and your painting, and even your fighting stick. All safe."

"I didn't even think about them, but it's so good to see they're okay," I sighed with relief. "I don't know what I would have done if my journal had been destroyed."

"I will put them right over here," Qui-Gon went on, rising and stepping over to the edge of the rocks where some supplies had been piled. My eyes followed him, and smiled in silent thanks so he could go back to work.

The high rocks surrounding the canyon turned red in the failing light, the sky beyond becoming pale blue, then ashen, with the great rind of a crescent moon rising from the far horizon. I noticed the last wisps of smoke had finally dissipated, meaning the Darkstar was no longer burning. The crew made a few last treks back and forth from the wreckage to the canyon; Qui-Gon stopped going with them, standing instead with Demilla, who had found a dirty khaki cloak of his and thrown it over his black leather. As the final bit of cargo was brought to the salvage pile, captain and Master started toward their injured friends, the rest of the crew trailing behind. "All right," Yon began, "someone take the water supply and split it in half. We'll take some with us and leave the rest here. Jedi Kenobi..." Obi-Wan rose to his feet and faced the captain. "We've set aside anything that will burn so you can keep a fire going tonight. The desert does cool down quite a bit in the night, but you'll probably want it more for protection. I don't know if there are any Sandpeople in this area, but better safe than sorry. And if you start to run low, break up those crates over there." He pointed to something in the salvaged cargo. "Do whatever you have to with what's inside, I don't care."

"There's a little food with the water supplies," Qui-Gon added. "Don't worry about rationing, take what you need. I will contact you when we reach Anchorhead, or in six hours, whichever comes first."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan nodded. "Maintain contact as often as you can. If anything happens here, I will inform you immediately."

"Let's hope that nothing does," the Master said grimly. "You'll only have the copilot for help, and he may spend most of his time patrolling around the wreckage." His eyes went to Demilla.

The captain frowned a little. "There are scavengers here who flock to any downed ship within hours," he said to justify his reasoning. "I don't know if I can get the Darkstar back into space, but it belongs to me and I'm not letting any sticky-fingered desert rats try to claim a piece of it. Not without paying me handsomely."

Qui-Gon sighed but relented. "We will try to find a means of transport, and come back to get you. If we get delayed, don't try to go anywhere. Stay here where we can find you. Tracer beacon on?"

"Tracer is on, Master," Obi-Wan confirmed.

"Good." Qui-Gon sank to his knees once more and smoothed his big, strong hand along my cheek. "I will do my best to hurry," he whispered, his eyes brimming with anxiousness. "Be good, listen to Obi-Wan."

I grabbed for his hand and clutched it to my heart. "May the...may the Force be with you."

He smiled, touched, in response and stood, taking his hand with him. Obi-Wan stepped aside with him, and I missed what passed between them, but it left Qui-Gon looking slightly more comforted and Obi-Wan more authoritative as they parted. The Master did not look back over his shoulder as he trudged away, shouldering a strap that had water containers dangling from it. I lay staring after them until they went around a jumble of rocks at the canyon's edge and vanished into the shadows of the coming night.

Obi-Wan wasted no time, going to the pile of disposable supplies and picking out anything made of wood or cloth that could be burned. I closed my eyes again, too weary and hurting to pay much attention to the mechanics of starting a fire, though I could hear him just a foot or two from me. He was building the fire in between Jek and me, as we were already positioned well and the overhanging rock above us would help reflect heat back and block any smoke from being seen against the sky. I suddenly heard the snap-hiss of his lightsaber igniting, and looked, startled, to see him plunging the tip of the blue blade into the heart of his pile of refuse. It took only seconds for a wisp of smoke to curl up from inside, and then a spark of flame. Satisfied, Obi-Wan put his lightsaber away and crouched down to fan the fire. Shadow and light leaped up as if startled on the walls and overhanging shelf of rock. The sight of the fire cheered my heart somewhat, though night had barely fallen and it wasn't cold just yet. Obi-Wan stared into it, his face alive with the light but otherwise solemn and drawn, until a faint sound beyond us turned his head sharply. The Zabrak copilot stepped up to the fire, adjusting the blaster holster at his hip so he could crouch down beside the Jedi apprentice. "Have they gone, then?" Obi-Wan asked him quietly.

"I watched until they climbed over a dune and out of my sight," the copilot muttered. "We're alone, now."

"We should share the watch," Obi-Wan suggested, his eyes returning to the mesmerizing dance of the slow-growing fire. "Take turns walking about the rocks and resting here by the fire."

"I'm to keep an eye on the ship, and you've been ordered to take care of the injured," the Zabrak demurred. "But, I suppose I won't complain if you spell me briefly. Half an hour here and there, and I'll be good to stay on my feet the rest of the night." He pushed himself to his feet and went over to the supplies stacked in the shelter of the overhang with us, poked around in them a bit, but only took a flask of water. I heard him mutter under his breath as he stalked back into the darkness toward the wrecked ship, "A lot of good table-rations are going to do us with no means of cooking them..."

Once he had gone, Obi-Wan rose as well and hunted through the supplies, taking time to pour water from the main container into the little bottle he could carry over to where Jek and I lay. He came back also with a thin blanket over his arm. "Are you cold?" he asked of me.

"No," I mumbled. "Just uncomfortable."

He folded the blanket lengthwise and laid it out nearer to the fire, and then knelt down beside me. "Here. Let me help you." Taking my arm, he eased me slowly to a seat, and I submitted to his direction to get me over onto the blanket. It wasn't much better, but it was close enough to the fire to feel its warmth.

Obi-Wan reached for his robe, but I waved him off. "No, it's too much," I tried to explain when he looked at me strangely. "My neck hurts."

"Something from your bag, then?"

"Maybe." I didn't stop him from bringing the bag over and rummaging through my clothes; he found a sweater that, when folded, created much less bulk than his robe and fit nicely just under my neck. I smiled hazily up at him when he laid it under my head. "Thanks."

"Here, take this," Obi-Wan continued, setting the water bottle by my right hand. "Drink as much as you need to, don't worry about sparing it. We have enough." He brushed a hand over my cheek and stood to go see to Jek, swinging his robe back over his shoulders. He did not discriminate but offered the poor crewman much the same care - without the soft looks and kind caresses.

I sipped meagerly at the water for a bit, trying to wash away the aftertaste of the salacil that remained even though I had gotten rid of it a long time ago. If the painkiller had kicked in, I didn't much notice. Keeping my hand resting on my stomach with the sling's help alleviated some of the strain, but I figured it would be a while before my left shoulder stopped hurting. For a time I turned my attention upward, to the sky beyond the canyon, where a scant handful of diamonds glowed in the indigo heavens already. Once it grew fully dark, I guessed the view would be shockingly beautiful out here in the Outer Rim. I can't believe I'm on Tatooine, I mused, giving the stars a confused look. What an incredible chance. I didn't think I'd ever see this place...this place where so much is going to happen. Fortunately, thinking about Anakin and podracing, about Luke and his uncle's homestead, about Jabba the Hutt even, did not put me in a fearful mood in the least, such that Obi-Wan would not have cause to question any change to my mood or the shade of thoughts running through my mind. At least, as long as I steered away from any reminder that the Padawan settling himself next to me, close to the fire, would someday call this dustball of a planet home and refuge. I decided to think instead about who we might meet out here in the desert, Jawas or Tusken Raiders even, and looked forward to seeing Anchorhead in all its glory so I could someday tell people what the place was really like. One thing I knew for sure - it was much hotter than my friends and I expected. Even now, with both suns down and heat radiating into space from the sand, it had to have been close to a hundred degrees, though truly the definition of "dry heat." Now that I had something between me and the sand, I was relatively comfortable. The night was eerily dead silent - no insect noise, no distant roar of highways and traffic, no hum of building atmospheric system nor ship engines - apart from the faint whisper of flames devouring burning fuel and the occasional swish of movement from our guardian Jedi. I turned my head and regarded Obi-Wan as he sat beside me, the glow of the fire golden on his face. He sat hunched over with his left side turned to me. "What are you doing?" I murmured.

"Nothing," he quickly answered. After a moment, he lifted up my journal and smiled sheepishly. "Just...looking at some of your sketches. You're very good."

"Thanks," I groaned, letting my head loll back the other way.

"The journal you're keeping." His face slowly turned towards me, his eyes solemn. "Would you ever...read some of it to me? Since I can't translate your writing."

I smiled wearily at him. "Maybe. Not tonight, though."

"Oh, no. I wouldn't ask you to do it now. You need to rest."

His coyness made me snort out loud, as I lacked the strength to laugh. Obi-Wan just turned his attention back to the journal, paging idly through it even though he couldn't read the erratic lines of my handwriting. An idea occurred to me as I watched him. "You want to write something in it?"

The Padawan's head whipped back around. "Me?"

"Yeah." I feebly gestured to the stylus clipped to the top edge of the pad's binding. "Write something to me. My friends do that, so we can remember each other. Besides," I added with a lopsided grin, "it'll give me practice translating. So I don't mistake those vowels again."

Obi-Wan heaved a short chuckle at that, and took the stylus in his right hand. "All right. I suppose I can think of something to write." Giving me a sneaky glance, he turned his shoulder just slightly away from me so I couldn't watch him. A deep frown furrowed his brow as he sat silently for a few moments, thinking, his lips pursed. Watching the firelight's incessant dancing made my head hurt, so I closed my eyes and let my head fall against my other shoulder. After a time, I finally heard the scratching of the stylus moving across the paper. Glancing at Obi-Wan, I found him studiously writing something, his brow still furrowed in concentration as he occasionally paused, looking up into the darkness on the other side of the fire while he thought, and then resumed composing. His hand moved slowly, taking its time forming the angular lettering, delayed by the inconsistency of his thoughts. I smiled to myself as I watched Obi-Wan, his shoulders bowed as he cradled the pad in his lap, his face serious and concentrated on his composition, eyes gleaming with the fire's glow. He felt my gaze on him and glanced my way, a little smirk curving his lips, before returning to the journal for just a few moments longer. He tapped the end of the stylus against the pad, giving it a pensive look, before deciding it was enough and closing the notepad. "There," he said concludingly. "But you can't look at it until you're better. All right?"

"Fine," I laughed. "I'm not in any shape to try bending my mind around Aurabesh right now anyway."

Setting the journal aside, Obi-Wan crawled a little closer and hovered over me. "How is the arm feeling?"

"'S okay..." I groaned weakly. "Still hurts, but not as bad."

He touched my left hand, making a little circle on the back of it with his fingertips, following his movements with his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

I could do nothing but whisper. "Very tired. My head hurts. Lots. Everything hurts."

"You should sleep," Obi-Wan cajoled, tilting his head to one side as he gazed at me. I felt the Force move actively over me, then, like a breeze, carrying with it his emotions. Tenderness. Concern. Affection. The slight swaying of his Padawan braid dangling beside his ear captured my eyes, even when he reached to smooth his hand down my cheek and neck. I was so tired that I leaned into his touch without thinking. His tense whisper split the night. "I'm so sorry this happened to you..."

"No," I murmured back. "It's not your fault. Don't be sorry. Accidents happen."

His hand remained where it was, his caress soft and comforting, like a pillow. "When we couldn't find you, even though I sensed you were still alive, the thought that something happened to you..." Obi-Wan flinched painfully. "I've only felt that fear once before in my life, when Qui-Gon was injured badly and I couldn't reach him. The thought of losing someone I care so much about..."

I laid my hand over his and tangled our fingers together. "Anything of value always carries the risk of hurt. And of loss."

Obi-Wan lowered his crystal-blue eyes, a faltering smile finding its way to his face. "It is a part of life. I understand that. But so rarely do I have to confront that fear directly - I always see it in other beings, but it seems so foreign."

"Oh, so I'm another life-lesson for Padawan Kenobi, eh?" I managed to chuckle. He likewise let a small laugh escape him, drawing my hand with him as he rested his on my stomach. "It's only natural, Obi-Wan," I assured him. "Even for Jedi. You just have to...learn to deal with it."

He nodded mutely, his eyes bravely returning to my face. The depth of his care shone in them like moonlight on water. "I shouldn't be bothering you. You need to sleep, to regain your strength."

"I'm trying," I said honestly, "but it's hard when I hurt so much. And I'm really thirsty."

"Well, then, drink more," he encouraged, breaking into an amused smile that made his eyes sparkle. "The water's right here."

"I know, I know..." A twinge of pain knotted in my temple, and I winced at it. His eyes clouded in concern. "No, I'm okay."

Obi-Wan withdrew his hand from mine and set it on my far side, leaning over me and stretching to gently kiss my forehead. His braid flopped down against my cheek, but I didn't dare giggle at it. He backed away slowly, his eyes holding mine captive. "I would take the pain if I could," he whispered. "But this is all I can do."

"It's enough," I whispered in return. He smiled warmly down at me, and as he sat back, his hand glided over my brow. A sleepy haze crept over me, and I found myself smiling absently as I closed my eyes. "I can try to sleep. G'night, Obi."

"Sleep well," I heard him purr.

*****

The night on Tatooine had to be the longest night of my life. I slept fitfully, waking now and again from small noises or hurts, or the subtle chill of the dropping temperature throughout the dark hours. Once I woke to the sounds of voices, and cracked my eyes open enough to see Obi-Wan's robed figure vanishing into the shadows. "I'll take a walk around the rim of the canyon," he said to the Zabrak now seated on the other side of the fire.

"Get me again in one hour," the Zabrak returned.

When next I awoke, Obi-Wan was back, sitting at my feet with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, stilled as if meditating. My shoulder was throbbing again for no reason, keeping me awake, so I watched him for a while, wondering if he was asleep or in a trance, whether the Force would bring him word that I was awake or what I was thinking about. Tatooine kept echoing through my mind, I'm on Tatooine. As time went on, I became less and less resistant to thinking about this place, the silent darkness void of stimuli serving to encourage my reflection. No one with connections to the saga had ever specified where the settlements of Tatooine were located in relation to each other, so I had no idea how far Anchorhead was from, say, Mos Eisley...or Mos Espa. It's two years before the events of The Phantom Menace, I mused. They don't know what they're going to find, but I do. A cold dread came over me as I lay beside the fire, staring up at the shadows chasing each other across the face of the rocky overhang. Maybe this was why I was brought to their galaxy. In the movies, big things always happened when ships crashed on Tatooine - maybe this was no different. I knew exactly where Anakin Skywalker could be found, even now, and once Qui-Gon returned with transport, it would be so easy to encourage him to take us to Mos Espa instead, to find the Chosen One now before he had formed any more life impressions. Maybe then Anakin wouldn't turn. And maybe then Qui-Gon wouldn't die.

Grief surged over me and knotted my forehead. With small effort, I could single-handedly alter the events of the future - foregoing just about everything that happened in Episode One. My Jedi companions would do anything for me in my state. All I had to do was encourage Qui-Gon to go to Mos Espa, telling him it was a matter of the future I knew about, and he would be in position to feel the disturbance in the Force created by the vergence around Anakin. I could even lead him straight to Watto's junk shop and the boy himself. Then Qui-Gon wouldn't even need to go to Naboo, and would never face Darth Maul...would not die. Why else would the Force bring us here, with my knowledge, unless it was to find Anakin? I've got to do it, I fretted. I've got to save Qui-Gon, and the whole galaxy. Anakin's only seven, the Council may be more likely to accept him. It would mean finally opening up to them about my knowledge of their future, but if it's fulfillment of my purpose, so be it!

I glanced at Obi-Wan; he still sat motionless, his eyes closed peacefully. If he wasn't asleep, he at least couldn't sense my thoughts, or he would have come over and questioned me about their disturbing tone. I couldn't stop myself remembering the chain of events depicted in the movie I had seen an obscene number of times before being whisked to this galaxy. Anakin's only seven. Only seven! But, did that mean he hadn't yet built C-3PO? A dark note introduced itself into my cresting hope, causing me to waver. I lifted my eyes past the rocks to the stunning nets of stars cast into the blackness of night. Say I did get them to go to Mos Espa, and they found Anakin. C-3PO wouldn't be finished, and that would affect a number of things far, far in the future. Who would be there to shut the trash compactor down for Luke? Assuming that Anakin still had children who were needed to help bring down the Empire. The dark note became a stabbing knife of ice in my heart. If Anakin went to the Jedi Temple now, he wouldn't be here to meet Padmé. No Luke and Leia. More importantly, who would be here to help the Queen when her ship landed in desperate need of repairs? There would be no one to befriend the Jedi, to podrace on their behalf and win them the funds for a new hyperdrive. Darth Maul would track them, attack Qui-Gon in the desert, but if the ship was not ready to take off...

The truth forced my eyes closed before tears could leak out of them. This isn't right. We're here too early. I've made a mistake! It's too early! The savior of the Naboo people would not be here when he was needed if we took him from Tatooine now. Whatever happened before we could get off this planet, I had to make sure that instead, we stayed as far from Mos Espa as possible, and I gave no hints whatsoever that an important piece of the future waited here to be discovered. The fulfillment of a prophecy, no less! I wanted so desperately to keep Qui-Gon alive, but finding Anakin too early was not the way. I could not stop the Trade Federation from blockading and invading Naboo, nor the Queen's damaged ship from landing here, so everything needed to remain in place lest the Queen be captured or killed, lest the mission fail for lack of help, lest Maul show up and destroy Qui-Gon here instead of in that reactor core...without Obi-Wan being able to help. I quickly shot Obi-Wan a glance, afraid that my anxious, depressing thoughts had finally disturbed him, but he hadn't moved. If I don't play this right, Qui-Gon won't be the only Jedi to die on that mission. I steeled myself against the realization that we should not have been on Tatooine, that my existence had somehow altered things already. Suddenly, a shrill roar shivered in the night, a terrifying shriek that died away on the wind and left my heart paralyzed up in my throat. Obi-Wan snapped awake, leaped to his feet, and whipped out his lightsaber in the space of a heartbeat, standing at the ready with his back to the fire. He looked confused, but prepared. The copilot raced up from the darkness, yelping, "What in blazes was that?"

"I don't know. Stay here," Obi-Wan ordered, dashing away. My eyes followed the blue glow of his lightsaber bobbing through the dark until it disappeared around a rock. The Zabrak yanked his blaster out and held it up, looking anxiously around. The roar seemed familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it - it was one of those things I had the feeling I should have known, but couldn't remember where I had heard it before. Shortly, Obi-Wan returned, jumping nimbly down from the rocks. His lightsaber was powered down. "I don't quite know what it was, but I sensed it moving away from our position," he reported breathlessly. "It was an animal of some kind - very large." His young face grew wary and stern as he rejoined us at the fire. "We'll both stand guard in case it decides to return this way."

Large animal...ohh wait. Krayt dragon! The beastly sound in reality was magnified in intensity and terror ten times over the sound effect from Star Wars, I knew this was a creature I didn't want to see up close at all. I could definitely say at that point that I no longer wanted to be on Tatooine and mentally begged Qui-Gon to hurry up and get us out of here. Obi-Wan came over and knelt beside me, laying a hand on my good shoulder. "It's all right," he whispered. "Don't be afraid. It was very far out in the desert and not headed this way, we should be safe."

"Okay," I accepted, nodding, inwardly grateful that he mistook my surge of panic and desperation for fear of the krayt dragon instead of what it really was.

The weariness of the long night and my injuries overtook my overactive imagination eventually, sending me back to sleep for short bouts. I must have slept through Master Qui-Gon's promised six-hour deadline, but I assumed he met it despite not hearing voices the rest of the night. I tried to nap as much as possible, dreading the coming of a twin dawn, but little things conspired to interrupt me. With embarrassment I had to ask Obi-Wan's assistance to stand and hobble over around a rock to answer nature's call in the middle of the night, thinking the whole time about the un-glamorous real side of fantasy stories that we never see. He took it in stride, his attention diverted still to the threat of the krayt dragon unaccounted for and the continued wait for his Master and help to return. I laid awake after that for too long, noticing the sky getting lighter and the faintest stars winking out with the approach of dawn. My back ached from spurs of rock digging into me all night long, so I pleaded with Obi-Wan to let me sit up for a while since I wasn't going to get any more sleep. He looked vexed, but agreed, and carefully supported me as I inched to a seat with my face turned outward, feeling the brief moments of coolness that could be captured before the heat of the Tatooine day drove all comfort into hiding. The mouth of the canyon faced east, forming a perfect window through which I could see the horizon turn pale, then gold, and then blaze with the flame of a binary sunrise. For just a few heartbeats, I forgot all about Chosen Ones and Jedi and the need to be anywhere but here as I stared, entranced, into a dawn which no other Earth-citizen had ever or would ever see.

On to part 55

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