Clone Wars Gambit: Siege (15 page)

It was the anguished sobbing that shocked him awake.

Dazed, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Then he sat up, coughing, and grimaced as old and new bruises alike complained. The taste of thick smoke, burned wiring, and scorched earth was foul. Looking around, he realized he’d been laid out on the ground a good distance beyond the entrance to the refinery—much farther than the explosion would have thrown him, surely. Which meant someone must have dragged him out of the way and then left him.

The refinery was ripped apart, flames flickering in the debris. Some villagers had formed a bucket chain and were steadily passing containers of water from the artesian well and throwing them on the fire. Did they have no chemical suppressants? And then he saw a scattering of discarded canisters. Which meant they’d had them, used them, and were now making do.

Even with the portable arc lights there was barely enough illumination to see clearly. Everything was ghostly in the haze of stinking, greenish gray smoke. Damotite smoke. So they were all breathing poison?

Oh, wonderful. Because things have been going so well up till now
.

Nearby, someone was sobbing.

He cast about for the source of the awful sound. There. Not even a stone’s throw distant, half concealed in shadow—a huddled collection of villagers. It was a young woman weeping, collapsed against someone older. Someone he recognized.

“Teeba Jaklin!”

She broke off her murmuring to the crying girl and turned her suspicious gaze on him. “Teeb Yavid—if that’s even your name.”

“It’ll do,” he said warily, getting to his feet. “Where’s—my cousin? Have you seen him?”

Jaklin stared through the eddying smoke toward the section of storm shield that had failed. “Yes. He says to tell you he’ll come when he can.”

What? Anakin was
still
standing between the theta storm and the village? It was hard to believe that even he could endure such stress for so long. “You—know what he’s doing?”

“And what he is,” she said, nodding. “What you both are, Teeb.”

Obi-Wan felt his lips twist in a wry smile. “Trouble?”

“I suppose that’s yet to be seen.”

Since she knew, since she’d guessed, he took a moment to reach out through the Force and make sure Anakin was all right. What he felt made his heart thump hard.

Anakin, hold on
.

And then he looked again at Jaklin. “I am sorry, Teeba. It wasn’t meant to turn out this way.”

“No,” she said, as quiet as he was, and let her cheek rest against the softly weeping girl’s head. “A lot of things weren’t.”

The worst of the fire was extinguished now, the bucket chain winding down. Relieved, he couldn’t sense the kind of panic or alarm that meant a similar disaster was brewing elsewhere in the village.

“The power plant? The mine? Devi? Rikkard? They’re all unscathed? What about the artesian well? Devi said—”

“The irrigation system was blown out by the power surge,” said Jaklin, her voice thin with exhaustion and shock. “We’ll need to wait for the storm to pass, and daylight, to get a proper look. The mine and the power plant stand. Devi’s working herself into a collapse, but she’ll not give way.” She shook her head. “She’s a good woman. We’d be in trouble without her.”

“What about casualties? I tried to clear the refinery. Did everyone—” The look on her face silenced him. Suddenly apprehensive, he looked around again. “Teeba? Where’s Arrad? Is he—”

“We’ve a sick house,” said Jaklin, and gestured in the direction of the square. “Arrad’s there, with the others badly hurt.”

His mouth dried. “How many others? How badly hurt?”

“Nine, Teeb Yavid.” Jaklin’s eyes were shadowed with misery. “But Arrad’s the worst. Rikkard’s left him there with Teeba Sufi and Teeba Brandeh. They see to our most poorly between them. Sufi worked as a hospitaler once, off in Lantibba.”

Stang.
Stang
. “And when you say he’s the worst…”

She heaved a deep sigh. “I’m told you did your best to save him, Yav—” A sharp head shake. “What’s your real name, Teeb? It’s a lie to call you Yavid and this is no night for untruths.”

“Obi-Wan,” he said. “Jaklin, is he dying?”

Jaklin shrugged. “He could be, Obi-Wan,” she said, close to defeat. Then she looked up. “We all could be, if this storm don’t ease so we can lower the shields and lose this smoke.”

So. They were breathing in poison. “I thought those pills you gave me and Mar—Anakin—”

“They’ll not do you the same good as the rest of us,” she said. “We’ve been taking them all our days here. But not even our secret will keep us from sickening if we breathe in much more of this filth.” Her chin jerked at the drifting smoke. “Could be you and
Anakin
won’t do too badly, though. Seeing as you’re not regular people.”

She was bitter, and he couldn’t blame her for it. “Teeba, I need to see Arrad. There might be something I can do to help him. If I leave you here—”

“Yes, leave me.” Jaklin frowned at the twisted tumble of overheated, smoking rubble before them and the villagers who still remained with their buckets and hope. “It seems we’re truly done here, with the refinery in ruins and our future with it. I’ll see you at the sick house by and by. Now you’re up and sound I’ll need to get to my duties.”

“And where is Rikkard, if he’s not at the sick house? Do you know?”

“Last I saw he was to the power plant,” she said. “It’s got to take first place, if we’re to have any chance there won’t be another surge along the grid.” Fear shivered through her. “Another surge will kill us, Teeb. Can you do anything about that?”

Obi-Wan felt his belly twist. “I don’t know. We’ll try.”

“You try and we’ll be grateful.”

And what was that—blackmail? Or simply the voice of desperation? “Jaklin, we’ll try.”

Leaving her to her duty he made his way to the sick house. The villagers he passed scarcely paid him attention, too caught up in the disaster to care for a farmer from Voteb. Jaklin clearly hadn’t told anyone what she’d learned about him and Anakin. If she had they’d be stopping him, disaster or no.

He felt his breath catch.
Arrad
. He should’ve drawn his lightsaber on the young man after all, because the truth was out now, regardless.

I might have saved his life instead of—

And then, reaching the edge of the empty village square, seeing lights in the charter house and what had to be the sick house, two doors farther down, the despair lifted. He felt a stirring in the Force—a bruised and battered and wonderfully familiar presence.

“Obi-Wan!”

He and Anakin met in the middle of the deserted street. During their years as Master and Padawan he’d done his best to break Anakin’s childish dependence on demonstrations of affection. He’d failed. And now, full of relief, he found himself reaching out to clasp his former student’s shoulder. The fitful illumination from the square’s plasma lights showed him Anakin’s face, and the price he’d paid for keeping the theta storm at bay.

It was a moment before he could trust his voice.

“There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gone off somewhere for a nap.”

Sunken-eyed, Anakin dredged up a smile. “Ha-ha. You all right?”

“I’m fine, but Arrad’s not,” he said. “We were caught when the refinery blew.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “So if it’s not crashing vehicles it’s exploding factories? Obi-Wan—”

“I know, I know. I’m incorrigible. And quite possibly a bad-luck charm.” Greenish-gray smoke eddied around the plasma lights. “Anakin—the burned damotite—”

“It’s toxic, I know,” said Anakin. His ghastly smile returned, just for a moment. “And I thought we were in trouble before.”

He didn’t want to say it, or even think it, but he had to. “I’m not sure how soon, but things are going to get worse. Whatever’s hunting us? It felt you.”

Anakin’s face went still. “I didn’t have a choice, Master. The shield collapsed and the storm—I couldn’t let it—”

Master
. “I know you couldn’t. I’m not angry. If anything, I’m astonished. Anakin, what you managed—” Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’m not certain that Yoda himself could’ve held this wretched storm back the way you did, for as long as you did. You saved the village.”

“Yeah,” said Anakin, scowling now. “Just in time for everyone to drop dead from damotite poisoning. Obi-Wan, this thing hunting us—”

“I don’t know. But as soon as this storm clears we’ve got to get out of here.”

“And go where?”

“I don’t know that, either,” he said, fighting the soft touch of a dangerous fear. “Any suggestions?”

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin dragged his forearm across his filthy, sweaty face. “We’re going to have to invent a new word for the kind of trouble we’re in.”

“Perhaps we can have a small competition.”

“And the winner gets to live? That sounds like a plan.”

Despite everything, Obi-Wan felt himself smile.
Things could always be worse. I could be stuck here on my own
. “Anakin, I must get to Arrad. There’s a chance I can save his life.”

“Then go,” said Anakin. “It’s not like we have to be secret Jedi anymore.”

“Can you go to the power plant? Jaklin says Rikkard and Devi are there, trying to make sure we don’t have another grid surge. They could use your expertise.”

Swaying on his feet, Anakin nodded. “Sure. Does Rikkard know his son’s injured?”

“Jaklin says he does.”

“Do you want me to tell him you’re—”

“No. Don’t say anything,” he said. “I don’t want to get his hopes up. I might not be able to help Arrad at all.”

“If anyone can, you can,” said Anakin. And because he was Anakin, and so tired, and had only ever pretended to learn that lesson of distance, gave him a swift embrace. “We’ll get through this, Obi-Wan. It’s what we do, remember? We survive catastrophe, even if it’s by the skin of our teeth.”

Yes, we do. I just wish we didn’t get quite so much practice at it
.

Refusing to worry, he made his way across the village square to the sick house as Anakin headed for the power plant. There he found Teeba Brandeh and another woman, short and broad and busy with bandages. She had to be Teeba Sufi, who’d once worked in a hantibba medcenter.

Thank the Force for small mercies
.

Sufi turned, hearing his boot heels on the wooden floor. “What do you want, Teeb? Are you hurt? If you’re not bad you’ll have to wait. It’s only bad cases we’re treating here.”

He could see that. There was Arrad, a motionless heap on one cot. And sitting by another was the little girl Greti. That must be her mother, then. Bohle. The woman was long and thin and fever-restless beneath her blanket. He counted another eight injured villagers in the room, which smelled of antiseptic and urine and fresh blood and fear.

Greti sat a little straighter. “That’s Teeb Yavid. He’s my friend.”

“I’ve come to offer my assistance, Teeba Sufi,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Jaklin told me Arrad was sore hurt in the explosion.”

“You tried to get him out, I’m told,” said Teeba Sufi, raking him head-to-toe with a fierce look that reminded him piercingly of Vokara Che. “Got most everyone else out, too. That was well done, Teeb Yavid.”

Obi-Wan crossed the floor to Arrad’s cot and stared down at the unconscious young man. Both arms and his right leg were roughly splinted. A red-soaked bandage was wrapped around his head. Bruising blotched the right side of his face and his bare chest was punctured in a score of places, scraped and bruised to a raw, weeping mess.

Stang. This is bad
.

Dropping to a crouch, he laid fingers lightly on Arrad’s wrist. The boy’s pulse was racing, trying to outrun death. “Actually, Teeba Sufi—it’s not Yavid,” he said, very softly. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Teeba Sufi’s surprise rippled through the Force. “And you’re a doctor?” she said, uncertain.

He turned to look at the women and saw little Greti staring, her old eyes so wide. “No. I’m a Jedi. And I believe I can help this man… if you’ll let me.”

“
J
EDI
?
” T
EEBA
S
UFI STEPPED BACK, HER FACE ABRUPTLY STIFF
with fear. “Greti—go. Get out. Find Teeba Jaklin and—”

“Teeba Jaklin knows!” Obi-Wan said quickly. “Please—I’m not here to hurt Arrad or anyone else. I truly want to help, if I can.”

Teeba Brandeh, just as surprised, touched her companion’s arm. “He ran into the refinery to get people out, Sufi. He tried to save Arrad.”

Sufi turned on her. “He’s
Jedi
, Brandeh! You know what they are, you know what they’re capable of. They enslave minds. They turn free men and women into beasts for the Republic!
Look
at him! Hardly a mark on him, and Arrad broken to pieces!”

Teeba Brandeh hesitated.

The child Greti stood. “I don’t know anything about Jedi, but I think Teeb Yav—Teeb Kenobi—is a good man.” She thumped her chest with one small fist. “I think that in here. Where I feel things.” She hesitated, then took a small step toward him. “Teeb Kenobi…”

He found a smile for her. “Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan.” Her answering smile was shy and trembling with hope. “Can you heal my mother?”

“
Greti!
” Teeba Sufi rounded on the girl. “Hold your foolish tongue, child. Bohle is my business, I’ll not have her meddled with by—”

Greti lifted her chin. “No, Teeba, Bohle is
my
business. She’s my blood and I’m hers and we’re all there is.” She pointed. “Chance be he might heal her. Can
you
do that? You haven’t so far.”

“Listen to us, Greti,” Teeba Sufi said, cajoling. “You love your mother. We know. But this man’s not to be trusted. He lied to us. Came among us calling himself Yavid, calling himself Lanteeban. Him and that cousin.” She whipped around. “Are you that much not a liar? Do Jedi have cousins?”

“As Jedi count such things, Teeba, then Anakin is family,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “We did not come here to harm you. We did not come here on purpose at all, and when the storm clears we’ll leave you. But until then I ask you, please,
let me help.
”

Ignoring Sufi and Brandeh, Greti came forward and took his hand. “Help me,” she whispered. “I don’t want Bohle to die.”

“
Greti—
”

“No, Teeba Sufi,” the child said, tugging. “I speak for her. I want this. And if he heals her, no harm done, then he can help Arrad.”

Letting Greti pull him to her mother’s unquiet side, Obi-Wan looked back at Sufi and Brandeh. “I am sworn to oppose evil and protect the innocent. You have my word, Teeba Sufi, I’ll not harm your patient.”

“Your word?” Sufi spat on the dirt-smudged floor. “What’s the word of a proven liar worth? You claim you can help Bohle? Help her and I’ll think twice on you. But if you can’t, then Jedi or no Jedi, Torbel will have its revenge.”

He nodded, accepting her challenge, then dropped to the stool beside the sick woman’s cot. “Greti…” He held the child’s hand a little more tightly. “You know I can’t promise anything.”

The child’s fear-shadowed eyes appraised him. “You’ll do your best, Teeb?”

“My very best. I swear it.”

“I believe you,” she whispered, then let go of his hand and sat cross-legged on the floor. “I do.”

The child had powerful Jedi instincts. “You could help her, Greti. Let her know you’re here. Let her know you love her.”

Tears tipped onto her sunken cheeks. Nodding, she wrapped her small fingers around her mother’s unhurt hand and raised it to her lips for a kiss. The simple gesture was such a profound declaration of love Obi-Wan had to busy himself with unwrapping the bandage covering Bohle’s injury.

It was fearful. Swollen to nearly three times its normal size, Bohle’s left hand was garish green and livid purple around a deep, putrescent laceration. The wound’s primitive stitches had burst, and it wept stinking pus. Fever had turned her blood to fire, scorching her skin and drying out her too-thin body. Poisonous infection streaked up her forearm and past her elbow, heading unchecked toward her shoulder. There were ghastly greenish tracings, damotite’s fingerprints in her flesh.

Obi-Wan felt a surge of misgiving. He had no formal training, no healing crystal to call on. All he had was desperation and a certain affinity for this work.

Oh, Vokara Che. How I wish you were here
.

There was no use thinking of how tired he was already, no point in dwelling on all the things he didn’t have or know. This woman was dying. She was Greti’s only kin.

And if I can help her, they’ll let me help all the others. What better way is there to show them the truth about the Jedi?

Fingertips resting on Bohle’s fever-heated arm, he closed his eyes and let the Force take him under. The Force in Greti quivered in response. He breathed in. Breathed out. Found his precarious center.

“Greti,” he whispered. “Think of your mother’s hand unharmed. Can you do that for me? Can you see it in your mind? The way it was before the accident?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice small. “I can see it.”

“Hold that image, Greti. Relax your body. Release your fears. Feel yourself floating in a warm, safe place. See your mother’s hand. See her smiling instead of suffering.”

Restless, breathing harshly, Bohle tossed her head on the pillow, her pain like a wildfire. Obi-Wan pressed his palm against her cheek and gently, inexorably, imposed his will upon her.

Hush, Bohle. Be at peace. Don’t fight me. Feel your daughter beside you. Feel her love. Let go of your terror. Let me in… let me in…

With a familiar, warm rush he felt himself plunge deeper into the Force, felt its power flood through him. Never knowing exactly how he did what he did, he made himself a conduit and let its mysterious strength soak into the sick woman’s body. Dimly he heard Greti gasp as the Force stirred ever more strongly within her, instinct guiding her fledgling powers.

A slow, deep shudder racked Bohle head to toe.

Somewhere a woman shouted in protest. “
No. Stop. What are you doing? You’re going to kill her. Stop!
”

“Have no fear,” he answered dreamily. “No harm is being done.”

He could feel the Force working through Bohle’s sick body, grappling with the rampant infection. And then he was gasping as an echo of her sickness sounded through him, as he became a conduit for her pain. Heat scorched his blood. A vise closed around his skull. His hand burst into a bright and blinding anguish. He heard—felt—Greti whimper.

I’m sorry, Greti, but she needs you. Hold on
.

This was a fight as vicious as any battlefield encounter. The infection was his enemy, Bohle’s recovery his goal. Caught up in the struggle, he didn’t care what it cost him, didn’t care that it hurt him. He cared only to win.

Fight with me, Bohle. Don’t give up
.

If only he were a true healer. To have that power now, to know he could undo this awful infection as effortlessly as he could deflect a volley of blaster bolts…

Come on, Kenobi. Make her better
.

And then he felt it—the shift, the change in Bohle’s blood. It wasn’t a cure, not completely—but it was change enough to give her a fighting chance. Pulling himself free of the Force, he saw that Bohle lay still now, her chest rising and falling slowly and steadily. Then Greti, tears drenching her face, moaned and collapsed across her mother.

Teeba Sufi, with Brandeh beside her, pushed him aside. “Get out of the way, Jedi. I want to know you’ve not harmed her.”

He half tumbled, half slid off the stool and backed away. His left hand still hurt. Bohle’s fever lingered in his blood. Teeba Brandeh scooped Greti into her strong arms and held the child close, letting the little one weep against her shoulder.

On her knees beside the cot, Teeba Sufi felt Bohle’s cool forehead. Then she stared at the partly healed wound in the woman’s hand and the clean, firm flesh of her arm. No trace of that greenish streaking poison remained. The village healer looked up, her brown eyes narrowed.

“She’s mostly mended.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I know.”

Sufi shifted her gaze to Greti. “What did the child have to do with it?”

“She… loves her mother,” he said, circumspect. “Love can be a powerful force for good, Teeba.”

“Hmmph.” Sufi looked down at Bohle. “You can do this again?”

Oh, may the Force give me strength
. “I will do it as often as I need to, Teeba.”

“You’re leaving, you said.”

“You’ll be safer if we go. But in between now and then?” Obi-Wan stared around the sick house, at the cots burdened with the injured. “What skills I have are yours to use.”

Teeba Brandeh snorted, sounding like Yoda. “Then apply them to Arrad, Jedi. He’s in need of your help.”

Yes, Arrad was. He had broken bones and split, spoiled muscle and some kind of growing pressure on his brain. Seated beside the young man’s cot, Obi-Wan felt his courage falter.
Oh, Vokara Che. Inspire me, Master
. And then, reaching for his dwindling reserves of strength, he plunged himself deeply into the Force.