He tracked its location and measured
its quality. It was on the left side of his chest,
above his heart, and ran up to his
shoulder. It wasn't a white-hot pain, but a steady
burning ache, as deep as muscle and
bone.
It told him he was alive.
He tried to move his right arm. The
slight contraction of muscle, the effort required,
seemed enormous. He hit something smooth
with his fingers. He followed it slowly,
tracing it up, then down. He moved
his other arm and reached out his hand. Again,
he met a solid wall. It was all around
him. He realized that he was trapped.
A jolt of panic raced through him as
he realized that he did not remember why he
was here. Qui-Gon allowed it to exist
and then watched it go. He breathed deeply.
He was a Jedi Knight. His lightsaber
was gone as well as his utility belt, but he still
had the Force.
He was not alone.
As he breathed, Qui-Gon brought his
mind to stillness. He told himself that his
memory would return. He would not strain
for it. He did not need it to live in the
present moment.
He concentrated hard on his surroundings.
Slowly he realized that he was in a
transparent chamber. The reason he
felt dizzy and strange was that he hung
suspended, upside down. A cloudy gas
surrounded him. Somehow it kept him
floating in the tank. He could not
see clearly through the vapor to the outside. He
shifted, hoping to change position,
and pain shot down his shoulder to his side.
Blaster wounds were tricky. You thought
the flesh was knitting, and they your wound
told you otherwise if you tried too
much, too soon...
Blaster wound.
Memories flooded back.
He had been on a mountainside with his
Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. They were
trying to protect his friend Didi Oddo
and Didi's daughter, Astri. The bounty hunter
had shot Didi, and he had fallen —
Didi!
— and Obi-Wan had leaped an astonishing
distance to knock the bounty hunter
down. The bounty hunter had tried one
last desperate maneuver, throwing a knife at
Astri. His Padawan had caught it in
midair. Qui-Gon rememberd the pride he felt
when he saw the skill of his Padawan,
how Obi-Wan had timed his move and called
on the Force in order to catch the
deadly spinning weapon by the hilt, not the blade.
The bounty hunter had known she was
defeated then. She had activated a cable line,
which launched her down the mountain
toward her craft. Qui-Gon had followed. He
had just made it to the launching ramp
when she shot him. He remembered his
surprise at the white heat in his chest,
remembered falling forward into the ship and
the ramp closing after him. He thought
he could still hear Obi-Wan's cry.
He had left his Padawan on a remote
planet with a wounded Didi — let him be
wounded, not dead — and a young girl.
Qui-Gon moved again, and his wound screamed fire.
A female voice suddenly came to him, amplified within the tank.
"You might be experiencing some pain.
It's from the chest wound. It has been
treated. You will survive."
"Who are you?" Qui-Gon asked.
"You are subject of scientific experimentation,"
the voice went on pleasantly. "You will
not be hurt, only studied."
"What do you mean, I won't be hurt? I'm confined!" Qui-Gon protested.
"You will be treated well."
"I am here against my will! Who are you? Where am I?"
The voice did not answer. Instead, an
apparatus shot into the chamber. At the end
was a syringe. Qui-Gon tried to twist
away, but he had nowhere to move. A needle
pricked him in the neck. He watched
his blood move down the transparent tube. The
syringe retracted. Slowly his body
revolved until he was right-side up again.
Dizziness swamped him, but he knew it
would pass. He gathered his strength,
waiting out the spell.
As soon as he felt strong, he gritted
his teeth against the pain and lashed out with
both feet. He could not get enough
leverage, and he bounced off the transparent
material. He struck out with a balled
fist, but got no response. The material did not
bend. It did not even move a millimeter.
"Now, is that suitable behavior?" the voice chided. "You are not a child."
"I am a Jedi Knight!" Qui-Gon shouted.
"Precisely. And your life is one of
service. Isn't that so?" The voice did not wait for
him to respond. "Now you will be of
service to this galaxy. Much more so than when
you dash from world to world, waving
that lightsaber around. I'm doing you a favor.
You get to truly prove your commitment
— how many Jedi can say the same? So
relax. Let's see some of that famous
Jedi meditation."
The note of dry amusement was suddenly
familiar to Qui-Gon. Of course! As his
memory returned, so did his suspicions.
His captor was Jenna Zan Arbor.
The brilliant scientist who appeared
so perfect on the surface. The researcher who
had saved whole populations from famine
and plague. Yet somehow he had
suspected that she was behind the plot
to kill Didi. He was glad to see that his
instincts had been correct.
Unfortunately, he was not her prisoner.
And he had not confided his suspicions
to Obi-Wan. The boy would not know where
to look, whom to suspect.
"Jenna Zan Arbor, you will not be able
to hide from the Jedi," he said, matching her
coolness with his own.
"Ah, so you know who I am. I'm impressed.
What a specimen! It merely proves my
choice is correct. I have researched
you, Qui-Gon Jinn. I have found that you are an
esteemed Jedi Knight, strong in the
Force. You are perfect for my needs."
"And what are your needs?" Qui-Gon asked.
He heard her dry, humorless laugh. "All
in good time, Qui-Gon. Just say goodbye to
the life you knew. You are mine now."
