When Paths Diverge

Tatooine [Year 25075 in Galactic Standard]

Qui-Gon Jinn barely had time to scramble onto the ramp and into the ship, before the hatch sealed behind him and the Nubian aircraft began to accelerate. The vibrations of the transport hummed comfortingly beneath his prone form, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply be. He reached out into the Force, smiling softly to himself as the familiar network of Force signatures revealed themselves in his mind, one by one.

Keeping his head was the least that he could do, especially under these unusual circumstance.

As it were, he was already laying flat on the cool metal floor, no doubt making a great impression on the rest of the crew. It probably didn't help matters that his clothes were soaked through with sweat, an unfortunate side-effect of the piercing twin-glares of Tatooine's distinct suns as well as that of the intense duel that had just taken place mere moments before.

He took a deep breath, aiming to calm his heart down from where it still pounded wildly from inside his chest. The realisation that he had barely managed to escape with his life, as it were, was a particularly worrisome one. Apparently, either his senior years were finally taking a toll on him, or he had been far too complacent as of lately, perhaps lulled into a false sense of security by a majority of the missions themselves being relatively simple. Easy, no, but simple.

Very rarely was a Jedi required to raise their blade against another, armed similarly, with the intent to kill. This was why it had been quite jarring to come across another with a red blade (Sith?) and with an obvious intent to murder, as apparent by the sheer rage and steely determination emanating into the atmosphere a few seconds ago.

Cold, quiet worry trickled through the other side of the mental bond that he shared with his Padawan, and Qui-Gon abruptly realised that he was unintentionally projecting his feelings into the Force. Sending a hurried apology, he worked on reinforcing his shields, breathing slightly faster than usual because of the amount of energy needed to both dull his aching body as well as strengthen himself mentally.

He really was getting too old for this, he decided grumpily. He really did not like that feeling at all.

He was distracted from his internal musings when both the boy and his Padawan came rushing down the hallway. His lips twitched upwards in a wry smile. The pair of them, the younger one especially, were clearly announcing their intent to help him get to his feet into the Force rather loudly.

He decided that he might have to spend some time on this trip to help Anakin develop a basic shield of some sort. He could only imagine how overwhelming it was for the boy to be exposed to all of this abruptly. Experience had long since taught him to be cautious, especially when dealing with some underlying trauma of some sort.

He had to tamper down a surge of anger at that. The knowledge that slavery was flourishing on so many planets on the Outer-Rim sector made him feel sick, and despite wanting to do swoop in and save them all, he knew that he was helpless to do so. That thought enraged him. Despairingly, he thought of the rules set down by the Republic, the ones that forbade the Jedi from interfering with matters of jurisdiction outside of Senate.

"Are you alright?" His Padawan's voice broke through the haze of his thoughts, and he glanced up, startled.

Working quickly to bury those emotions, and realising with a sigh that he would have to release them into the Force later, Qui-Gon pulled himself back to reality. Collecting his composure took little time, and it allowed him to regain control over himself.