The Dark Rival

11

With his eyes closed, he heard the sound of the sea. Or was it the pounding in his temples?

Cautiously, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He was in a long, narrow room with a low ceiling. Rows and rows of sleeping platforms surrounded him. Bedding was rolled up at the foot of each wide platform. He was alone. His lightsaber was gone, as was his comlink.

His ribs and shoulder were bandaged. Something was around his neck. Obi-Wan ran his fingers around it. It was a collar. It felt smooth, with no obvious clasp to remove it. It hummed underneath his fingertips. Maybe it was some sort of healing device.

When he raised his head, a sharp pain made him release his breath in a hiss. Obi-Wan breathed slowly, calming his mind as he’d been taught. He accepted the pain. He welcomed it as a friend, advising him that his body had been injured. He thanked it for alerting him to this. And he focused his will on healing.

After only a moment or two, the pain lessened slightly, enough for him to stand. There was a narrow window high above him. He balanced on a sleeping platform and stood on tiptoe to see out of it.

Despair filled him. A great, gray sea stretched before him for kilometers. There was no sign of land. No ships. Only this huge platform, with tall towers rising from the sea.

He knew where he was at once—the Great Sea of Bandomeer, which covered half the planet. He must be on some sort of deepsea mining platform. The deepsea mines were only whispered about. They were rough, dangerous places that many miners did not survive.

“So you’re awake.”

Obi-Wan turned, startled. A tall, mournful creature stood in the doorway. His skin was dark, but appeared to be peeling in white patches. Two white circles surrounded his eyes. He had extraordinarily long, rubbery arms that dangled past his knees.

“How are you feeling? I was worried,” he asked, but before Obi-Wan could respond, he chuckled. “I lie! Not so!”

“Who are you?” Obi-Wan asked. He felt dizzy, and he commanded his mind to clear. He stepped down carefully from the platform.

“The name is Guerra, not that you need to know it so. I’m a Phindian. We’re a mixed lot, here. Which reminds me, Human boy. Move.”

Guerra’s arm shot out suddenly. It reached across two sleeping platforms and fastened on Obi-Wan’s wrist. “I don’t have all day. The guards will be here with electro-jabbers for both of us if I don’t get you outfitted.”

“Outfitted for what?”

“Outfitted for what? A vacation on a Syngia moon!” Guerra chortled. “Not so, I lie! Mining, of course.”

“But I’m not a miner,” Obi-Wan protested as Guerra dragged him toward the doorway.

“Oh, so sorry. In that case, you don’t have to work.” Guerra’s odd, patchy face leered at him. “Instead, you can be thrown off the platform. You’ll have such a lovely swim—”

“Not so?” Obi-Wan guessed.

Guerra chortled and slapped Obi-Wan on the back, sending him flying. “Good one, Human boy! Not so! Thrown off to drown. Except the fall will kill you first! Now, come along.”

Guerra pushed him through the doorway. A cold wind hit his face. Around him were piles of mining equipment. Droids were busy hauling beamdrills to a lift tube, where workers were waiting. Guards were everywhere on the platform, patrolling with electro-jabbers and blasters.

As they climbed stairs to the second level, Obi-Wan saw that the platform was much bigger than he’d thought, about the size of a small city. Hydrocrafts sped back and forth from the deepsea platforms that ringed the main structure.

Guerra pushed him into a storage room. He rubbed his eyes to survey the equipment, and the white patches around his eyes widened. Obi-Wan realized that Guerra’s skin was actually fair. He was covered with mining dust and grime.

Guerra caught him staring. “Showers once a month, but why bother? Soon, you’ll look like me, Human boy.”

“Guerra, I’m not a miner,” Obi-Wan repeated. “I’ve been kidnapped and sent here. I’m—”

Guerra burst out laughing. He slapped his knees with his flapping hands. “Kidnapped? How awful! Let me alert the security forces! Oh, I lie again! How do you think I got here? Do you think I volunteered? We’re all slaves, don’t you see? At the end of five years, they give you enough pay to transport off-planet and start over. If you survive. Most don’t.”

“Five years?” Obi-Wan asked, swallowing hard.

“That’s the contract you sign,” Guerra said. “You’ll need a thermosuit. And a tech-helmet. Some tools ...”

“But I didn’t sign a contract!”

Guerra laughed again as he held a thermosuit against Obi-Wan and rejected it as too small. “Stop distracting me with jokes, Human boy! Did I sign? They forge it so!”

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am a Jedi pupil.”

“Jedi, Kedi, Ledi, Medi,” Guerra said in a nonsense singsong. “Doesn’t matter who you are. You could be the Prince of Coruscant. No one will find you here.” He tossed another thermosuit at Obi-Wan. “This one will have to do. So, now for a tech-helmet.”

Obi-Wan clutched the suit against him. It was stained and damp. He couldn’t imagine putting it on. He was already chilled to the bone. His head pounded again, and he touched it carefully. He could feel the bruise on the back of his scalp. Blood matted his hair. His ribs were on fire.

Then he remembered the collar. He touched it. “Is this some sort of healing device, Guerra?”

This time, Guerra fell back into the pile of thermosuits. He laughed so hard he began to choke. “So! You make me laugh again, Obawan. Healing device!” He hooted with laughter, then cleared his throat. “Not so! It is an electro-collar. If you try to leave the mining platform, ga-coosh!” Guerra’s rubbery arms waved. “You blow up!”

Obi-Wan touched the collar gingerly. “The guards can blow us up?”

“Not the guards,” Guerra explained cheerfully. “Electro-collars are activated on the mainland. Just in case of a rebellion, you see. If we overpowered the guards, we might be able to dismantle the devices, got it? So the guards can’t blow us up, no.” Guerra smiled amiably at him. “They can only beat us and blast us and stun us and throw us overboard.”

“What a relief,” Obi-Wan muttered.

Guerra grinned, his teeth flashing yellow. “I like you, Obawan. So! I’ll watch out for you—ha! Not so, I lie again! I trust nobody and nobody trusts me. Now hurry before the guards come and give us a stun.” Guerra poked him and made a sizzling sound, then laughed uproariously. “Don’t look so sad, Obawan. Tomorrow, you’ll probably be dead!”

Obi-Wan climbed reluctantly into the thermosuit. He grabbed the tech-helmet and strapped on the servo-tool belt. He had no choice. Not yet. He had to figure out how to escape. Guerra said that no one had ever done it. But a Jedi had never been here before. He hoped.

Obi-Wan cleared his mind. He pushed away his fear and despair. He focused on the collar around his neck. Surely he could use the Force to override the device.

He concentrated hard, bringing the Force around him to bear on the collar. He used every ounce of his training and discipline.

But the collar still hummed with its electro-charge.

He was too weak, perhaps. He would have to bide his time.

If he survived ...

As he returned to the deck, he saw a guard viciously stun a miner who had stumbled. How could he survive this?

Play along for now, you will.

The words came to him clearly. Yoda’s words. Just hearing the tones of the Jedi Master pushed the despair away and gave him courage.

Obi-Wan lifted his head. He was a Jedi. He would play along. And he would survive.