by A. L. Singer
Nothing existed below them now. Nothing but blackness.
The energy walls had appeared again. Obi-Wan was trapped behind the last one, separated from Qui-Gon by the thickness of a subatomic particle.
Qui-Gon went after the Sith Lord with all he had — a fury of lightsaber slashes that sent the black-clad warrior reeling.
The Sith Lord struck back with his blades, but neither came close.
So he hit Qui-Gon on the jaw.
As the Jedi Master’s head snapped back, he felt a sudden, sharp pain. It started in his abdomen and quickly spread through his legs and arms.
The Sith Lord had stopped moving. His wrist was wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber.
The blade was deep in Qui-Gon’s body.
Coolly, the Sith Lord pulled it out. Qui-Gon gasped, falling to his knees in a white shock of silence. He heard a scream, but it was not his own. Through the haze of his ebbing eyesight, he saw the wall of electrons part and his Padawan rush forward. He saw the crossing of blades and the tumult of moving bodies.
And then, finally, he saw a mighty swing that passed through the Sith Lord. And he saw a black shape fall silently over the edge and into the pit.
Obi-Wan had killed a Dark Lord.
Qui-Gon smiled weakly.
He had been right. The young man was indeed ready.
“Master!” Obi-Wan’s wail was unlike anything Qui-Gon had ever heard from him. He knelt by Qui-Gon and cradled him. “MASTER!”
“It is too late,” Qui-Gon said. “It’s—”
“NO!”
“Obi-Wan, promise ...” The words hurt. They seared his insides. “... promise me you’ll train the boy ...”
“Yes, Master —”
“He is the Chosen One.” Qui-Gon had to get the words out. Obi-Wan was the only hope now. The only one the boy trusted. “The boy will ... bring balance ... Train ... him!”
The last thing Qui-Gon heard, before his eyes shut forever, was the sound of his Padawan weeping.
At this point, readers who chose to follow the adventure in the Star Wars Adventures Game Book can return to The Final Battle.
The Starfighters had failed.
The Gungan defense had been stopped by the relentless droid hordes.
But the boy had turned it around.
The boy had penetrated to the interior of the Trade Federation battleship and blown up the main reactor. Section by section, the entire vehicle had exploded into a nova of space debris.
Without power, the droids had gone limp. The Queen and Captain Panaka, having sneaked into the chamber of the viceroy, were able to secure a total surrender.
And Senator Palpatine had been elected Supreme Chancellor.
It had all happened so fast.
And it wouldn’t have happened without Anakin.
The Chosen One.
Was it true? Perhaps.
Obi-Wan wanted to believe his Master’s judgment. But even now, even after Anakin’s feats, Obi-Wan couldn’t totally shake his doubts about the boy.
Nevertheless, he had made a promise to Qui-Gon. And he would follow through. He would train the boy to be a Jedi.
Assuming that he himself became a Knight. That was still to be determined.
Obi-Wan swallowed hard and entered the turret room of the Theed palace. There Yoda awaited, pacing slowly.
Kneeling, Obi-Wan faced the aged Master. Yoda’s face was unrevealing. He continued to pace, as if oblivious to the young man. Then, finally, he spoke:
“Confer on you, the level of Jedi Knight the Council does. But agree with your taking this boy as your Padawan learner, I do not.”
“Qui-Gon believed in him,” Obi-Wan protested. “I believe in Qui-Gon.”
Yoda shook his head. “The Chosen One the boy may be. Nevertheless, grave danger I fear in his training.”
“Master Yoda, I gave Qui-Gon my word. I will train Anakin — without the approval of the Council, if I must.”
“Qui-Gon’s defiance I sense in you — need that, you do not,” Yoda said, looking sharply at Obi-Wan. He paused, his expression softening. “Agree with you, the Council does. Your apprentice, young Skywalker will be.”
Obi-Wan beamed. He was not only a Jedi. He had a mission.
He wanted to jump up and twirl the grizzled old warrior in the air.
But he saw Qui-Gon’s face in his mind’s eye — and he heard his Master’s words.
Stay in the moment.
He checked his emotions and solemnly bowed.
And he thought he saw a hint of a smile on Yoda’s wrinkled face.
The funeral pyre, as per tradition, occurred that night.
Qui-Gon’s body burned slowly, as if the spirit had lingered on and was putting up a last fight. But the figure in the funeral pyre was no longer a man, it was a reminder.
Obi-Wan stared at the silhouette until it was consumed — until the contours of the heroic face burned into his heart and mind, the places where Qui-Gon’s soul would always live. And always advise.
Behind Obi-Wan, a drum rolled steadily and then faded. Someone released doves, which flew into the rising ashes and disappeared on the wind.
Next to Obi-Wan stood the boy, his eyes red and fearful. “He is one with the Force, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “You must let go.”
“What will happen to me now?” the boy asked.
“I am your Master now,” Obi-Wan reassured him. “You will become a Jedi, I promise.”
On Obi-Wan’s other side, Mace Windu turned to Yoda. “There is no doubt,” the Jedi Councilman said, “the mysterious warrior was a Sith.”
Yoda nodded. “Always two, there are — no more, no less. A Master and an apprentice.”
“But which one was destroyed?” Mace Windu asked. “The Master or the apprentice?”
Obi-Wan stood close to his new young Padawan. If he was indeed the Chosen One, his training must be swift.
He would be needed for a new battle, one far greater than anything yet faced.
And he had better be ready.
THE END
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