Author's Note: This is a three way cross over-Star Wars Ep 1, Highlander, Shallow Grave. Written
once again by me and my friend Kailla. Also recommended that you see the movie Shallow Grave (R). If you don't... Well, we warned you.
Disclaimer: Normal legal stuff for Lucasfilm, Rysher, and whoever it was that made Shallow Grave. Xanatos and Obi-wan's padawan stone belongs to the Jedi Apprentice series people.
Inside their rooms at the temple, Obi-wan was packing for a long trip.
"Are you sure about this, Master?" Obi-Wan asked as he packed. "It's going to be a whole year." He could feel Qui-Gon smiling behind him. Was his nervousness that obvious?
"It may not be that long, Obi-Wan," Qui-gon said reassuringly. "You know that the Agualls don't allow people under the age of thirty on their world. You've proven many times that you can take care of yourself. I'm sure this time will be no different."
Obi-wan knew what he said was true. The Aguallarians were so adverse to "young ones", as they called them, that they shipped their own children off the planet until they came of age. Obi-wan, at twenty, had at least ten more years before he would even be allowed near their planet.
"But why do I need to help facilitate first contact with this illogical planet? Master, who names their planet Earth? It'd be like... like naming it dirt."
"I'm sure the Senate knew what it was doing when it scheduled this world for first contact," Qui-Gon scolded, still amused. "And you're not to make this contact. You're to gather information until a qualified ambassador arrives. The Senate operative there is a Mr. Lucas. You should contact him." He paused, trying to think of something to lighten his Padawan's mood. "At least they're human."
Obi-wan grinned. Their last mission, to a planet whose name he still couldn't pronounce, had been a trial for Qui-gon.
Every female of the species had been insanely attracted to him and the fact that they were only a foot tall and covered in feathers didn't seem to dismay them a bit. Qui-gon had taken it stoically but apparently, their clinging to his legs and singing had annoyed his master more than he thought.
"Yes, at least they're human, Master." Obi-Wan finished with his bag and threw it over his shoulder. His eyes met Qui-gon's for a long moment before he bowed.
"May the Force be with you, Master."
"And with you, my Padawan." There was more that Qui-Gon could have said, that he wanted to say. Saying more than this, though, might have kept the boy for longer than he had time for.Obi-Wan watched his master expectantly, not sure what he was waiting for.
Qui-Gon pointed to the chrono. "You'll be late."
Obi-Wan nodded. He felt... disappointed, almost hurt. It was as if he was saying good-bye... He shook the emotion off as he left the room. He and Qui-Gon had been apart before, and he'd never let his Master down. This time would be no different.
Qui-Gon still stood, staring distantly at the door. There had been so much he wanted to say, and Obi-Wan knew it. That he hadn't had time, left him feeling sad. With a sigh, he turned to take one last look about the room. His transport would be leaving soon as well
Glancing at the bed, he noticed a familiar object lying on the covers. With a deep sense of foreboding, he realized that it was the stone he'd given Obi-Wan on his thirteenth birthday. It must have slid out of his robe, Qui-Gon thought. Walking over, he picked it up. Its warmth pulsed in his hand. He couldn't remember a time when Obi-Wan had been without it.
Obi-Wan sighed as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He'd pinned his braid back so that it fell underneath his undone ponytail. It felt odd, especially since he'd never seen himself dressed as anything but Qui-Gon's apprentice before. The trousers, or "jeans" as they were called on Earth, were too tight. His shirt boldly proclaimed "Socially Disturbed". He wondered just what the fads were on Earth to require such a saying. The sleeves of his jacket came only to his wrists, a far cry from his voluminous Jedi robes.
And the worst part of the new wardrobe was the footwear. These "sneakers" were everything he did not want. They were too short, and they were white, a pristine and perfect white that practically begged for someone to get them dirty. And to make matters worse, it had taken him ten minutes to lace and tie them. His dislike of Earth was growing by the minute.
"Jedi," the captain's voice came through the com, "we will be landing momentarily. I'll try to put you down in a place where the natives won't see us. You'll have trouble enough as it is on this planet."
"You've been here before?" Obi-wan asked in surprise. "I thought the Senate forbade any contact with this world?"
"Some, uh, free trade friends of mine have been here before. Let's just say they don't take well to strangers."
Obi-wan stifled a sigh. Another bad point of this mission...
"I'll be right there, Captain," he said. After checking to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, he headed for the door.
The captain, a short, grey, creature with long fingers, a big head, and large black eyes, was waiting for him by the hatch.
"Good luck, Jedi" he said, his small mouth barely moving. "I've set us down in the middle of one of their cities." He then pronounced a blessing in his own tongue that roughly translated as "May the slugs of your garden dance in concentric circles and may the Great Pooka visit your dreams."
"Thank you, Captain," Obi-wan responded with a bow. Qui-Gon's words came back to him. At least they're human. Obi-Wan exited into what looked like an alleyway. A thought occurred to him.
"Captain?" He turned around but the ship was gone in a slight whoosh of air. Obi-Wan had to admire the captain's piloting skill at dropping him in the middle of a crowded city without being seen. But how was he supposed to find this Mr. Lucas if he didn't even know what part of the planet he was on? He took a deep calming breath, flushing out his irritation. After all, it was his fault for not asking about Mr. Lucas earlier.
He walked swiftly down the street, using the Force to relax himself and blend in with his surroundings.
As he rounded the corner, he could see a very odd scene at the end of the next block. Two men in plaid skirts, black boots, black t-shirts--one proclaiming, "A mind is a wonderful thing to waste"- and green hair that had been made into spikes were holding a portly man in a bright pink shirt labelled "Scotland" and tan shorts. The third punk was dressed like the first two but he wore a plaid sash and his purple hair formed a foot tall mohawk.
"Wot 'id you say we we'e warin'?!" the third punk, apparently the leader, screamed in the chubby man's face. The poor man, his face as red as the augustine leaves of the Chala tree, was obviously unused to such treatment.
"I... I... I..." the man stuttered, trembling. "I said you were wearing a kilt!" The leader kicked the man before punching him.
"No, you di'n't! You sed we war warin' skuts!" He pulled his arm back to strike again.
"No… I meant to say kilts!" the pudgy man squealed, shaking his head furiously. "I swear! I swear! Please let me go!" The three skirted, or rather, kilted men regarded him for a moment.
"Very well," said the leader. "Tak 'is money." His green haired companions greedily obliged, kicking the portly man once more for good measure.
Obi-Wan would have done something, but there was nothing to be done. As his Master had pointed out, he was there to observe. Getting into a fight, sure as it was that he would win, would not accomplish his mission. Besides, by the time he could reach them, the three men had already gone. As soon as they had run off, he rushed to the poor man's side.
"Can I help you, sir?" he asked politely. "If you need a hand..."
"No," the man said shortly, with an angry glare. "I don't need any help! Get away from me before I call the police."
Obi-Wan backed away confused. He sensed the man was embarrassed but that was no reason to turn down help. He stood watching the man limp away. It was going to be a very long year.
Gusts of wind began buffeting him and soon he felt cold, stinging raindrops hit his neck. The jacket he had been provided with had no hood. He decided to find shelter from the downpour that would begin soon. Obi-Wan walked down the street, looking at one building after another, trying to identify one as lodgings. As he drew near the end of the street, a voice spoke from the shadows below an awning.
"Looking for shelter, Obi-Wan? Does a little rain bother the perfect little Jedi?"
Obi-Wan paused, wondering who would know his name here, then took a step toward the awning. The voice sounded familiar...
He reached out with the Force, just as the figure stepped out of the shadows.
"Xanatos," Obi-Wan breathed. Then all went black.