Star Wars: Beneath the PIt

STAR WARS: Beneath the Pit

A short story

In the city of Theed a war rages in the upper levels. The siege on Naboo may finally come to an end. In the underground the less haughty make their living away from the majesty of the city displayed to the galaxy. Not all humans on Naboo adorn themselves in lace and gowns of cobalt blue. No, not here in the underground. Akin to the Gungans, the lower levels are full of outcasts and downtrodden families crushed by the greed of the wealthy few. Down here is nothing but envy and gloom.

Standing on a catwalk around the perimeter of the main power generator, deep in the lower levels, a young boy, maybe fourteen, stands looking up into the endless tunnel of darkness above him. His only experiences of the battle so far are heard from quiet echoes emanating from above. But to hear anything from the surface while this deep in the underground would require remarkable, penetrating sound.

The boy was supposed to be mending a broken panel on the outside of the power generator. The same panel would fall off at least once a week due to a design flaw in the generator shell casing. The metal plate would never fit properly. So, like a child trying to force a square into a triangular hole, the boy would force, bend and break the panel back into place; once again concealing the complex electrical innards of the generator. This type of back-breaking work would earn the boy a quarter-credit for the day’s work. Fixing a panel while war rages above felt foolish to say the least. But the boy neither sympathized with the wealthy Nabooians or cared if the whole planet fell under Separatist control. Would it affect him? Could life really get worse than this? In the upper levels of the city, children his age weren’t legally allowed to work for another couple of years. Instead they received a government stipend for going to colleges to study politics and arts. But perhaps all that would change if the planet could not defend itself against the military control of the Separatist army. A sick enjoyment enveloped the boy’s imagination. Imagine seeing those aristocrats in their cobalt blue and lace collars being dragged through the mud by the Separatists. Then they’ll know how it feels. With this thought the boy kicked the panel. Finally, it stuck in place.

''Clank, clank! ''The boy reacts to the sound coming from the catwalk, The narrow walkway has no railing and to fall would be a death sentence. It is the only access point out of the room onto the airlift up to the industrial district of the lower levels.

''Clank, clank, clank! ''Out of the darkness two Separatist battle droids make their way down the walkway. This wasn’t unusual as the Separatists would routinely send Battle Droids to patrol these parts of the lower levels. But the boy sensed something more sinister than routine inspection. The droids began moving faster and with purpose. Then the boy saw it: blood. Blood was smeared over the tin torso of one of the droids. This wasn’t an inspection. It was an extermination. The Separatists knew they were losing this battle and intended on causing as much damage as possible before the end. The battle droids raised their rifles. The boy felt his eyes go dark. There was nothing to hide behind. Nothing to use as a weapon in defense. He had only the next couple of seconds to endure the terror inside him before he would remember no more. Then… nothing. Nothing happened. The two battle droids stood next to each other on the catwalk with their rifles raised as statues. It was like time had stopped except for the fact that the boy was still free to move around in it. The boy dropped his defense and slowly approached the two mannequins frozen in their joints. His hand gripped the rifle of one of the droids. As he pulled on the rifle the rest of the droid toppled, connecting with the droid next to it. The boy staggered backwards in amazement as both droids fell off the catwalk. He peered over the edge as the droids disappeared into the darkness with one final CLANK!

Silence. Even the raging war above seemed to go silent. The adrenaline rushing through his body seemed to slow the world around him.

Then a voice: ‘Fidi.’ The boy swiveled to face who was speaking to him but there was nobody in sight. ‘Who’s there?’ he replied.

‘Fidi, you don’t know me, but the force knows us both. And it’s by the force that I speak to you now.’ The boy’s eyes widen. He could not believe what he was hearing, and yet he was hearing it. ‘Who are you?’ Fidi asked through frightened tears.

‘Don’t be afraid. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. I am a Jedi and I need your help.’

He knew who the Jedi were and had heard stories of the force. But never in his life had he ever met a Jedi. Even Jedi stayed away from his home in the depths. Could this really be a Jedi? Or had his encounter with the battle droids made him lose his mind?

The voice was pleasant and wise. Fidi felt a new peace inside him. The voice felt like that of a gentle father. Inner peace made little sense at a time such as this, yet his tears and trembling ceased.

‘What do you want?’ Fidi asked, his eyes now drawn to the opening of the pit above the generator.

‘Above my apprentice hangs on for his life. I myself am mortally wounded and cannot assist him except through the force. Dark forces seek to destroy us both. I need your help to fend off the darkness.’

‘What can I do to help you? The only access to the top of the pit is from the upper levels which I cannot reach. And how do I know I can trust you?’

From the tunnel above a small glint of light captures the boy’s attention. A fast falling metal cylinder flips through the air toward him reflecting the red and white lights of the ascending tunnel. Then CLING!! Cling, cling! The small cylinder bounces off the catwalk eight feet in the air and lands on top of the power generator. It wedges inside an exhaust vent. The device is sophisticated with a sleek, ancient design. This is undoubtably the weapon of a Jedi. At this Qui-Gon continues…

‘Fidi, the force is strong with me. But now I fear I am fading into it. The force is strong with you too. Unlike you however I no longer have a clear connection to the physical world. My body is weak and disoriented which means I cannot directly combat the evil seeking to destroy my apprentice. I am asking you to intercede with this evil for me.’

At these words fear and confusion begin bubbling inside Fidi again.

‘I am no Jedi. I don’t know how to use the force.’

‘Then I will teach you,’ Qui-Gon countered with calm reassurance. ‘Close your eyes.’

The boy takes a breath and closes his eyes.

‘Now reach out!’

Suddenly, all at once, Fidi feels a great, warm ocean flow through him; it’s force unstoppable. All his senses become heightened.

‘Now grip the lightsaber in your hand.’

‘But Qui-Gon, it’s up there out of reach.’

‘Fidi, trust me. Reach out and grip the lightsaber.’

As if it had always been there, Fidi feels the warm metal against his fingers. Opening his eyes he realises the cylinder is no longer wedged out of reach above the generator but in his grasp. His eyes widen in wonder as he examines its bolts and buttons. Instinctively he brushes his thumb over the red ignition and a brilliant blue beam burns through the air, coating the entire generator room in blue light. The boy stands breathless with the device in his hand. Even the energy of the power generator could not compare to the power emanating from the lightsaber.

‘Well done!’ Qui-Gon’s voice returns. A smile stretches across the boy’s face at his achievement.

‘Now quickly! Before it’s too late, reach out and help my apprentice.’

Fidi closes his eyes once more as the warm ocean crashes over him. As the sensation settles an image falls over his mind: a face angry and gnarled by hate, scars and tattooed in red and black. Then another face. This one young. A lot like his own: calm and focused. However, it isn’t by facial features that Fidi is able to recognise Qui-Gon’s apprentice. It is by a light inside himself. That same light could be seen in Obi-Wan Kenobi now hanging for his life. A Sith Lord seeks to kill him. Fidi sees sparks of red flash over his vision. He feels the sweat of Obi-Wan’s hands as they begin to slip from their grip.

Once more Qui-Gon’s voice returns, ‘Fidi, thank you. And may the force be with you.’

With the feeling of a well bubbling up inside him, Fidi outstretches his arms to support the feet of Obi-Wan. He feels the heels of Obi-Wan’s boots press against his palms and then release.

Fidi staggers backward, the lightsaber still in his grip, sweat pouring down his forehead, exhausted.

Fidi switches off the blue blade and attaches it to his utility belt in place of a hydro spanner. Never mind payday, somehow he had to escape Theed. He runs down the catwalk toward the airlift. Fidi waits at the lift doors for them to open. From the pit he hears another voice. This one is harsh and screaming.

THUD! THUD! From the darkness he sees two shapes come crashing down on top of the power generator. They land out of sight. Holding his breath Fidi questions whether or not he’d successfully saved Obi-Wan’s life. Had both the dark and the light fallen to their deaths?

Finally, the airlift doors open. Fidi steps inside closing the doors in front of him. The split second before the doors fully close, Fidi catches a glimpse of the red and black figure crawling on its belly toward the edge of the generator above the catwalk. Its horns crowning a scarlet head full of rage. Fidi did not see the light in this face. Only darkness.