Nightshift 34 - M41-M50
Qui-Gon tried to meditate, but the calming center he had usually been able to maintain was hard to come by tonight. It was not helped that with his eyes closed, kneeling on the floor, hands resting on his thighs, that half an hour after the last intercom announcement he could feel the Force quaver, shift and turn in on itself, and then Martin Landel himself showed his true colors, taunting the patients. So tonight had truly begun, then.
And it appeared the rumors he'd heard about regarding the grounds were true. It was possible to escape.
In theory, anyway.
But running out first thing would be foolhardy. Qui-Gon sighed and got to his feet, feeling joints protest a little that hadn't protested before only a few years ago. They would have to deal with this mission as Jedi would, which meant taking the step back and being careful. Qui-Gon taught Obi-Wan to live in the moment, to not always look blindly into the future or the past, but that didn't necessarily mean to jump at the first opportunity of escape either. They did not know yet how they'd been brought here, how he himself had been stolen from death. Without knowing that, true escape would be impossible.
What they needed was communication.
Qui-Gon believed he could do this alone, as his last mission. But now it seemed wise to get those makeshift commlinks up and running to make traveling with Obi-Wan easier. And to find some kind of comm center so they could get word out to the Jedi Council. Every night he witnessed horrific things happen to the creatures and the Earthian human staff and their prisoners. And every night, the Force cried out as it was twisted. If anything, the Jedi Council had to be warned about this growing threat.
The Jedi Master gathered his things, the devices small enough to carry in one hand, and picked up his battery in the other, tucking his journal into the waistband of his trousers. He also had his knife on him, but he hoped not to have to use it. Shouldering open the now-unlocked door, Qui-Gon stepped outside into the dark hall.
And it appeared the rumors he'd heard about regarding the grounds were true. It was possible to escape.
In theory, anyway.
But running out first thing would be foolhardy. Qui-Gon sighed and got to his feet, feeling joints protest a little that hadn't protested before only a few years ago. They would have to deal with this mission as Jedi would, which meant taking the step back and being careful. Qui-Gon taught Obi-Wan to live in the moment, to not always look blindly into the future or the past, but that didn't necessarily mean to jump at the first opportunity of escape either. They did not know yet how they'd been brought here, how he himself had been stolen from death. Without knowing that, true escape would be impossible.
What they needed was communication.
Qui-Gon believed he could do this alone, as his last mission. But now it seemed wise to get those makeshift commlinks up and running to make traveling with Obi-Wan easier. And to find some kind of comm center so they could get word out to the Jedi Council. Every night he witnessed horrific things happen to the creatures and the Earthian human staff and their prisoners. And every night, the Force cried out as it was twisted. If anything, the Jedi Council had to be warned about this growing threat.
The Jedi Master gathered his things, the devices small enough to carry in one hand, and picked up his battery in the other, tucking his journal into the waistband of his trousers. He also had his knife on him, but he hoped not to have to use it. Shouldering open the now-unlocked door, Qui-Gon stepped outside into the dark hall.