Lost in the Lower Levels

Summary: Pre-TPM. Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi. Fourteen year old Obi-Wan gets a bit lost in the lower levels of Coruscant as Qui-Gon works to find him.

The padawan rubbed at his arm. It was itchy since the attack. Well, what he considered an attack. He was lost on Coruscant, which he hadn't thought possible, but venturing beyond the boundaries he'd usually been given had been a mistake. The place was more massive than the impressive views from the Jedi Temple allowed. Seeing from the sky was one thing. From below, it was a bit frightening for one so inexperienced.

A young Obi-Wan Kenobi pulled his comlink from his belt and pressed the code most familiar to him.

Qui-Gon Jinn immediately picked up. "Obi-Wan? Where are you? You are late for our meeting with the Council."

"Um, Master, I believe that I am lost. I did what you told me, and went straight to the shop. Coming out, a crowd overwhelmed me and I was tangled up with them for a time. They were all very tall and I...well, I am not. When I found my way out, I didn't know where I was and I have no idea where I am now. And I think I got bitten by an Unark."

Unarks were small acid-spitting worms. They didn't bite, though their piercing and blistering acid slaver could make one feel as if they had been bitten...or worse.

"Unarks do not bite, Padawan. They spit acid."

"Well, it spit on my arm and burned through my robe and tunic."

"Don't touch your face. Especially near your eyes."

"Trust me, Master, I am not. I think it may be burning a hole through my arm though. Feels like it, at least."

"You'll be all right, just stay way from any more worms."

"This one found me. I did not seek it out. I was simply trying to get home." A pause, followed by a confused, "Master Qui-Gon, I am not familiar with the lower levels, how exactly do I get home?"

Part of Qui-Gon wanted to laugh at the predicament the boy had gotten himself into. The child had developed a bad habit of falling into irregular situations during mundane errands.

The other part of the Jedi Master worried a bit about the Unark wound and the boy not having any idea where he was. Qui-Gon silently berated himself for not allowing his apprentice more direct access to the Coruscant streets to prevent such a predicament. The lower levels were like a giant maze and there were areas of the capital city that children and the youngest teenagers should never be permitted to travel alone. There were also sections quite unfriendly to Jedi, especially those that were too young or in experienced to have the confidence to handle the unpredictability of the variety of life that was Coruscant.

However, there was a solution to all of this, but it wasn't perfect.

"I can track your comm, Obi-Wan, but there can be much interference on the lower levels of the city and it may take some time to pinpoint your exact location once I get close enough."

Asking the boy to look for a distinctive landmark to help with the search, Obi-Wan remarked, "Well, lets see. I'm surrounded by really high pointy skyscrapers."

The Master Jedi shook his head. "You just described the entire planet, Padawan."

"It's not my fault they built this place with no direction in mind. I walked down one street and it was like a different planet than the one ten steps from where I just was. Oh, I see a sign, it's a bar. Wait...Master, what's a death stick?"

"Just what it sounds like, do not take death sticks from anyone. Is someone trying to sell them to you?"

"Three people actually. This is not a friendly place, Master. They look like they're all strung out on something."

"They are. Death sticks. Move away from that area, Obi-Wan and try not to appear like you are lost. I am heading to the lower levels to begin my search. I will go to the shop where you began this evening. Find a safer place to wait and then look for a landmark there. Preferably, something that does not resemble a really high pointy skyscraper."

Obi-Wan scurried away from the death stick crew but with a sense that one of them had begun to follow. The worm bite burned again. As he went to scratch it, his comm was knocked from his hand and he dove onto the disgusting ground to grab it before it was crushed or stolen.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Hi, Master. Sorry. I dropped my comm. The worm bite was itching."

"Don't scratch and do not drop your comm."

"And don't take death sticks. I understand, Master. I didn't know there were so many rules for when one gets lost on your own home planet."

Obi-Wan wandered slowly and carefully, dodging more death

stick dealers and other creepy creatures of the night that were beginning their treks onto the streets as dusk cascaded onto the city. A twinge of fear crept through the boy. He'd managed to stay in control of his emotions so far, but with daylight waning, the feeling that he was still being followed, the acid burning his skin, and the unfamiliar surroundings, it was all making him quite uneasy. Only being a second year apprentice, he was grateful to have the steady voice of Master Qui-Gon as a guide.

Thirty minutes passed before Qui-Gon arrived at the store that had been Obi-Wan's original destination.

"Obi-Wan, I am at the shop. When you departed and the crowd hit you, did you get moved left or right?"

"Left I think, but it was very discombobulating, Master. I can't be certain."

"Discombobulating. An interesting word for you. All right. What was the first thing you saw when you came up for air after the crowd?"

"Grease. All over my hands and knees. I was knocked down good, Master. The streets of Coruscant are very disgusting."

"Indeed. After the grease, what did you see?"

Thought overtook the boy for a moment. A long moment. Too long.

"Obi-Wan? Talk to me."

"I saw an orange cone. Some type of safety cone. Construction. They were building something. Probably another really high pointy skyscraper, because there aren't enough of those within this one single block alone."

The master smiled at the honesty. Obi-Wan often had a way with words and expression. At times, it was an effort to counter his fear and discomfort in situations. Other times, the boy was just

a smart ass. Qui-Gon felt this was the former as he had begun

to sense a tinge of uncertainty and alarm over their bond and

sliding into the young voice as well. Also disconcerting was that Obi-Wan was also not displaying any of his usual cockiness over the comlink.

"Obi-Wan, it's all right. I will find you." He tried to comfort.

The response was brave but anxious. "Yes, Master. I know. I am trying."

"I know you are. So you saw construction." Qui-Gon walked to the left several blocks. Orange cones. This could be it. "What did you see after the construction?"

"Um...Oh, there was a Wookiee drunk staggering around. I didn't know Wookiee were drinkers and don't recall reading about their affinity for ale when I studied about them last year, but it was a little bit funny until he growled at me and I turned away so fast I face-planted into a huge puddle of muck. All over my tunic. I think that's where the Unark bit me. Or spit on me. In the muck. It really itches, Master. I can't see it, but it's probably all red and gooey. Am I going to lose use of my arm, Master?"

"No, Padawan," Qui-Gon searched the ground for a 'huge puddle of muck', grinning at the boy's continued nervous narrative on his comm. "Unless you get attacked by a swarm of worms, I do not think this one wound will cause your arm to fall off."

"I just said lose my arm, you think it might actually fall right off? Wait...Master, Unarks do not travel in swarms. Maybe packs or groups or piles. Bundles? Tangles? I don't know. Worms are very strange. Did you know there are electric worms? No, not electric...um, conduit worms. They live in the electrical wiring channels underground the city and eat electrical currents. I read that they can eat brains if they don't find stronger power sources to feed on. Padawan Wy'Yun said he found one trying to crawl into his ear one night."

"That's...interesting, Padawan." Qui-Gon responded to the unsettled rambling.

"Worms weren't my favorite things before this trip. Now? They definitely fall further down on my list. Master, have you found

me yet? It's getting dark and one of the death stick people is following me."

"No death sticks. If he tries to touch or harm you, you have my permission to use your lightsaber to protect yourself."

"But, Master, you said I shouldn't bring attention to myself down here. Most people in the lower levels don't like Jedi and..."

"I know what I said, but if you are in danger, you use whatever you can to defend yourself. That's an order. Understand?"

"Yes, Master. I will."

"What happened after the drunk Wookiee?"

"The huge puddle of muck, remember? The worm bit me."

"Right, of course. The muck and the worm. After that?"

"Maybe you can follow my stink, Master. I really smell badly. The grease, the muck, and I'm sweating all over. And the acid worm spit smell too on my itchy arm. My arm smells like it's rotting."

"You can take a long shower when we get you home and healed. Focus, Padawan. After the muck?"

"More skyscrapers, more drunk creatures, more...uh oh. I see the death stick guy now. The one that's been stalking me. He's really small and quick. With huge ears. And ugly."

"Do not underestimate for size or appearance. Can you hide from him?"

"I am hiding. I'm standing next to a big walking carpet...no wait, what? Wookiee? Another Wookiee. Ugh, and he smells too. Like some type of fermented ale. What's with the drunk Wookiee, Master? They're all over the place."

"Stay there, Obi-Wan. Other than a foul-smelling, inebriated Wookiee and the tiny, big-eared death stick dealer, what do you see? I may be getting closer. I just walked past a large puddle of muck and a squished Unark worm. Did you kill it?"

"No, Master. It was only defending itself when it spit on me. I didn't think it should be killed for being scared and lost in a puddle of muck, but when the acid burned, I did scream in pain and shock and well...I Force-blasted it across the street. I guess it got mashed afterwards."

The boy, thinking about the saving an acid-spitting worm that had attacked him rather than taking revenge on it and chopping it to tiny bits as others would have done. Such a simple action and reaction. Qui-Gon smiled inwardly and the feeling of right in this boy. After the past darkness of Xanatos, this one...this padawan of his...despite their current challenging situation and their uncertain and sometimes far-reaching differences as master and apprentice...was nothing but light.

"You tried, Obi-Wan. That's all I ask." Qui-Gon replied fondly. "What do you see now?"

"Other than the Wookiee?"

"Yes, other than the Wookiee."

"There's a green sign across the street. It says Massage. Should I go..."

"Do not go into that store!"

"But, Master, Padawan Wy'Yun told me about..."

"No! That is not a place for...those your age. And stop listening to Padaway Wy'Yun, he's much older than you and only a couple of years from his trials. Stay where you are. I am close enough now where it appears I have your comm signal. Say put, Obi-Wan."

"The death stick guy is watching me again. Should I...I think...he's walking toward me."

"I am close, Obi-Wan."

"My arm really burns, Master."

"Don't scratch it."

"Too late for that. I've been scratching it for hours now. It's bleeding. And I touched my face with my scratching hand. Now my eye itches. I need to scratch it, Master. And my head feels a little funny, maybe from the worm acid? I don't know, but I really don't like this place. Master, are you here yet? The death stick

guy is staring at me. He has a blaster in his hand. I think... Master...I should..."

Obi-Wan began reaching for his belted lightsaber when suddenly the rising hand of the death stick dealer disappeared along with the rest of him. An invisible force had hurled him violently backward, landing him into the unhappy hairy pile of drunk Wookiee. Qui-Gon paused to survey his handy work and then quickly went to his padawan's side, set an arm around the young shoulders and escorted him away from the block.

"Move quickly, Obi-Wan."

"Master..."

"No talking. Move. This is a very inhospitable section of the city for Jedi. Especially the inexperienced. I've attracted attention and we need to clear out of the area. Walk."

Obi-Wan gaped big-eyed at his surroundings. As younglings, they were not permitted into the lower levels. Even as first year apprentices it was not advised without escort. Now he knew why. It was easy to get lost and confused and a bit terrified down here alone. Qui-Gon had trusted him to visit the one store they had gone to together several times. The shop owner was credible and friendly. The shop was only two short blocks from the Temple. But Obi-Wan had gotten so twisted so quickly, he'd lost all sense of direction. He'd done the best thing he could think of, stayed calm (kind of) and wait for help.

The pair arrived to the main city block just beyond the Jedi Temple. An area well known to be popular with Jedi and tourists, and much less a place of criminal activity. Qui-Gon stopped their hurried trek in front of an antique shop that he frequented when on the hunt for old paper novels that he enjoyed reading. There were several sitting benches in the area.

Even in the dark, Obi-Wan sensed the difference. Things were calmer, quieter, less likely to make the hairs on his neck stand up. Plus he had one of the Order's greatest Jedi at his side in full-on protection mode. Other than the slightly addled feeling in his head, incessant itching of his arm and now one of his eyes, he felt much better.

"Sit, Obi-Wan. Let me see your arm."

Careful to not touch the wound and spread the acid, Qui-Gon shone a small light on the arm. The area was angry, inflamed, red and swollen with what looked to be puss-filled welts.

It was Obi-Wan's first time seeing it, after itching it so madly for hours on end. "It looks and smells disgusting, Master."

"It is disgusting, Padawan. Let me see your face."

"I didn't mean for it to get onto my eye, but things were happening, it was dark, Wookiee were drunk, death stick people were pursuing me, my head got fuzzy. I was a bit jumpy, Master. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. You stayed calm, despite your anxiety. And

you were able to help me locate you. Your eye isn't so bad, only because you've not scratched it much. We'll take you directly to the healers. Did you get what you went out for in the first place? I don't see that you have a bag from the shop you were supposed to have to visited."

"I did, Master. I have it in my tunic." With his non-contaminated hand, the boy reached into one of the hidden pockets that Jedi tunics housed and pulled out a thin cylindrical object, handing it to his teacher. "Here."

"What is this?" Qui-Gon held the silver object that looked just

like one of those old ancient writing utensils for which he had such an affinity. Obi-Wan had accidentally destroyed his other when he was inexcusably practicing Force exercises in their apartment several weeks prior. He'd somehow managed to melt the pen with his lightsaber and had gotten handed two hours extra hours meditation everyday for a week because of the lapse in intelligence.

"I felt badly for melting your writing pen. I wanted to get you another one. It's not the same kind, but the shop owner knows you and said he was absolutely sure you would like this one."

The pen in hand, Qui-Gon's heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. It was so unexpected and unnecessary, but was so very much Obi-Wan.

"This is very kind of you, Padawan."

"I won't melt this one, I promise. And not just because of all that extra meditation you assigned me."

"It's just a thing, Obi-Wan. Those can always be replaced. You however, despite the struggles we continue to have in our master-apprentice relationship thus far, cannot. I will ask you to please do not ever do this again, all right? Venture into the lower levels on your own. At least not until you are a bit older. I was concerned."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm never leaving the Temple again!"

Qui-Gon laughed. A good feeling. "Well, we know that isn't true, but we will go slowly and learn from what we've learned."

"Learn from what we've learned?"

"Yes. It makes sense if you think about it."

"Okay. But can we go to the healers now? Before my arm really does fall off? I need to scratch so badly."

"Don't scratch. Let's go get you cleaned up by the healers and then cleaned up completely. You really do stink."

"I told you. Look." Obi-Wan held up his hands, then pointed to his knees and chest. "Grease. Muck. Nasty."

Securing the pen into his own tunic, Qui-Gon put an arm around his apprentice and they began the short walk to the Temple, up many flights, around several corners and into the hospital wing. There, he watched with relief, some pride and a little bit of humor as his apprentice received treatment for his acid wounds all the while telling the entire tale of the eventful journey into the lower levels of Coruscant to a curious Healer Terran Va'lor...in exaggerated form of course.

A satisfying conclusion to an absorbing evening, Qui-Gon thought. One of many he assumed was to come as he and Obi-Wan made their way through their upcoming years together as master and apprentice.

END