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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…
Owen. His brother's name was Owen.
Reeft never got enough to eat.
Bant's eyes were silver.
The first time he'd drawn his lightsaber. It had glowed as he activated it. Most of the Temple students had been clumsy. He had never been clumsy. Not with his weapon. The lightsaber had always felt right in his hand.
Pain now. White hot.
The Force was bright, too. He pictured it, golden, strong, glowing, forming a barrier around his memories.
They are mine. Not yours. I'll keep them.
The Syndicat guards were surprised to see him smile.
"Happy to see that memory go, I guess," on of them said to the other.
No, it is not going. I have it. I'm holding it now…
Rough linen against his hands. He clung to his mother. The end of the visit. Yes, he had wanted to go back to the Temple. It was a great honor. They knew they could not keep him from it. He wanted it so much. Yet good-bye was so painful, so hard. A soft cheek pressed against his.
I carry you always.
The way dusk fell at the Temple. Slowly, because of all the lights and white buildings of Coruscant. Light took long to leave. That's when he'd go to the river with Bant. Bant loved the water. She grew up on a humid world. Her room was kept supplied with steam. She swam like a fish in the River. As dusk fell, the color of the water would match her eyes.
Pain. He felt sick. Consciousness was slippery. If he passed out, he would lose.
Yoda. Yoda he would not lose. Strength you have, Obi-Wan. Patience you have as well, but find it, you must. It is there within you. Search you will, until you find it and hold it. Learn to use it, you must. Learn that it will save you, you will.
How would not lose Yoda's lessons. He created a Force barrier around them. Pain crested again, sending dissiness through him. He could not last much longer.
"What's your name?" the guard asked harshly.
Obi-Wan rolled blank, sick eyes toward the guard.
"You name," the guard repeated.
Obi-Wan pretended to search, pretended to panic.
The guard laughed. "This one is cooked."
The droid detached the electro-pulsers. Obi-wan slumped to the floor.
"He's sleep now," the guard said.
"He won't dream," the other added.
But he did.
He was hauled to his feet. A Syndicat guard leered in his face.
"Ready to face your new life?"
He kept his face blank, dazed.
"I've got money riding on this," the guard said. "You won't last three days on Gala."
Gala! Obi-Wan kept a neutral look on his face as relief surged through him. What a stroke luck! At least on Gala he could find a way to help Qui-Gon.
He knew Prince Beju's plans. Perhaps he could find someone on Gala, one of the rival politicians ru
The landing ramp slid down. He could see a gray stone spaceport lined with battered starfighters, A number of checkpoints prevented anyone from entering. Obi-Wan remembered what Qui-Gon had said. The royal house had plundered the planet. Rival factions fought for control. The people were close to revolt.
"Have fun!" the Syndicat guard chortled, and gave him a push down the ramp.
A probe droid buzzed behind Obi-Wan made his way cautiously through the spaceport hanger. When he reached the checkpoint, the guard waved him through. No doubt the Syndicat had bribed them to let him through without a challenge. Once he hit the streets of Gala, their fun would begin. They were betting on how long he'd survive.
Obi-Wan plunged into the teeming streets of Galu, the capital city of Gala. The small probot followed behind. Obi-Wan knew he had a camera trained on him at all times. It was hard to know what to do. How would he react to such a city if he had no memory of what he knew.
The city of Galu had once been grand and impressive. But the great stone buildings were crumbling. Obi-Wan could see the holes and depressions where ornaments had been stripped off the facades. Trees had once lined the streets, but now there were only twisted stumps.
The Galacians were humanoids whose pale skin had a bluish cast. Sunlight on the planet was limited and they were often called "moon people" due to their fair, luminous skin. Obi-Wan could see evidence of poverty everywhere. Where the atmosphere on Phindar was one of fear, here on Gala, Obi-Wan picked up anger.