Sharon Nuttycombe
Part II: The Edge Of Darkness
Qui-Gon was speaking, but Obi-Wan couldn't hear him. There was only a rushing sound in his ears. Try as he might, he couldn't make out what his Master was saying. He stretched out with his feelings, trying desperately to hear the message, but the rushing only grew louder. "Master...please..." And then, with a jolt, he was awake, the words he had spoken aloud still ringing in the silence.
"Master?" No. Qui-Gon wasn't here. He was alone, on...Regaid. For an instant there was only confusion, then a wave of memories rushed back at him, threatening to overwhelm him. His mission, the ambush, the fall from the roof...the laser shots. Startled, Obi-Wan opened his eyes...and wished he hadn't. He could see nothing beyond bright swirling fog and the light seemed to stab through him like a lasercutter, slicing through his optic nerves and carving all the way to the back of his head. As if that was a signal, the rest of his body began to howl in pain.
Grimly he ignored the sensations, concentrating instead on what he could see, sense, touch. He was lying on his stomach on a hard stone floor, that much he could tell. The room...cell?...was poorly lit, the only illumination coming through a small barred window of a nearby door. And it was cold. Very cold. It was a measure of his disorientation that it took several minutes before Obi-Wan realized that the cold was partly due to the fact that his cloak, tunic, and boots were gone, only his trousers remaining. Well, at least they...whoever *they* were...hadn't stripped him completely naked. Nevertheless, what body heat he had left was rapidly being leeched away into the cold stones. He really should get up, try to keep warm...
On second thoughts... The slight movement he had made sent the cell spinning wildly around him, and he closed his eyes, holding onto the floor desperately and trying to regulate his breathing. It didn't help - if anything it only made him feel more nauseous. Definitely a concussion, the Jedi thought distantly, his head pounding. "I feel terrible..."
The rest of him wasn't much better. The knee which had twisted under him when he fell felt like it was on fire, his left arm and shoulder ached unmercifully, his ribs were sore, and...
"I was shot." The memory jolted through him. "More than once. So why am I still alive?"
Good question. Hesitantly he moved his right shoulder a fraction. It ached, but no more than the rest of him. Whatever energy weapons his attackers had used, they were obviously like nothing he had seen before. They looked and behaved like standard blasters, but a real blaster bolt *would* have taken his shoulder off. As for the two shots to his chest...he'd be well on his way to the next world by now if they had been standard weapons. On the other hand, they definitely hadn't been set for stun. Obi-Wan had been stunned in the past. He knew how it felt, and it was nothing like this.
"So...to sum up. We have unknown aliens, including at least one Regaidian, with unknown weapons and..." a chill went through him, "something that disrupts a Jedi's use of the Force." No, this was not good. Not good at all.
With an act of will, he opened his eyes again. They still wouldn't focus properly but he ignored the effects. Hesitantly, remembering what had happened the last time he had tried to touch the Force, Obi-Wan reached out with his mind, concentrating on what lay beyond the walls of his cell.
Nothing. Not the nothingness that would have indicated he was alone. But sheer, absolute...blankness. Where the Force, his connection to the world around him, should have been, there was nothing. It was as if someone had disconnected him from the universe.
The sharp burst of adrenaline and fear that coursed through the Apprentice went a long way to clearing the last of the fog from his mind. Eyes wide open now, and his body in motion before he realized that moving *really* wasn't a good idea, Obi-Wan levered himself to a sitting position, his whole being centred on reaching outward and touching something...anything.
There was nothing. Nothing at all. "Maybe I am dead after all..." he thought, panic beginning to replace the fear. For the first time in nearly two decades Obi-Wan was alone. Absolutely, inexorably alone. The power he had grown to depend on and recognize as a friend was gone. He was shaking, he noticed distantly. "Master," his voice lifted silently, desperately, "I need you."
His only reply was silence.
* * *
After a while, Obi-Wan realized that blind panic wasn't going to help him. Realized it on a conscious level, that is -- it took considerably longer for him to regain control of his body's reactions. Nevertheless, eventually he managed to calm himself, using Jedi breathing techniques. It helped, but only a little.
He couldn't remember ever feeling so alone. Not even during the darkest times in his life, when he thought he might not become a Jedi at all, before Qui-Gon had taken him as his apprentice... even then, he had always had the Force, his link to the world around him. Now that it was gone...well, nothing had ever prepared him for this. Nothing *could*. It was as if someone had hacked off a limb, had taken away the most important thing in his life... He hadn't realized how much he depended on that link until it was gone.
With an act of will, Obi-Wan forced his mind away from the loss. He might not be able to use the Force, but he was still a Jedi...well, Padawan, at least. And he still had to find a way out of here, to get back to Coruscant. "Although, at the moment," he muttered, "I'd settle for just getting out of this cell..."
Using the closest wall as an aid, the Apprentice slowly pulled himself to his feet...foot. He still couldn't put any weight on his left leg, he found. When he tried, touching his foot tentatively to the ground, pain surged up his leg and threatened to knock him back into unconsciousness. Only some deep breathing and the wall's support kept him upright. "All right," he thought raggedly, "I won't try *that* again." Straightening his shoulders, he took a single awkward hop forward toward the door. It certainly helped his bad leg, but didn't do much for the headache pulsing at his temples. Bouncing up and down with a concussion was *not* a good idea. Still, it was either that, or start crawling... Obi-Wan kept hopping.
By the time he had reached the door, the Jedi was sweating from the effort. He leaned his aching forehead against the metal surface for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to gain some measure of control over his body. It wasn't easy. Even with the Force, Obi-Wan wasn't particularly adept at self-healing. He never had been. He could use his abilities to help others heal more quickly - had helped Qui-Gon in the past, in fact, when his master had been injured - but was absolutely hopeless when it came to helping himself. And now, well, he was no better off than anyone else. Considerably worse, in fact, given that he *knew* there was a power that could help him, but couldn't access it. "Later on, when I have the time," he thought glumly, "I think I shall be depressed."
With an inward sigh, he opened his eyes and peered through the barred window in the door, blinking to help his eyes adjust to the light behind it...
...and yelped as a pair of dark green eyes blinked back at him. Startled Obi-Wan leapt backwards -- or at least tried to. His injured leg collapsed beneath him and he tumbled back onto the floor, bruising his backside as well as his dignity. In an instant though he was upright, balancing on one foot, as ready for battle as he could be.
"You're awake."
The voice was pleasant and even sounded a little concerned. The Jedi frowned, but didn't shift his defensive stance. "Who are you?" His voice was rusty from disuse, he noticed absently, and he was excruciatingly thirsty. It wasn't important. Thirst could wait but he needed answers *now*.
"Altos." Just the one word, as if the man was afraid to say more.
"Why have you brought me here? What do you want?" Anger was beginning to lace the Jedi's words, now that there was a target for his hostility, but he fought to keep his emotions under control. Anger would cloud his judgement, and he needed to keep a clear head. Anger was a weakness. And yet...
The man behind the door shifted uncomfortably. Obi-Wan could only see part of his face, blurred by the shadows, and a lock of dark hair falling over his eyes, but could nevertheless read a multitude of emotions in him - disquiet, uncertainty, guilt, perhaps even a touch of fear... "He's afraid of me," Obi-Wan thought, not needing the Force to sense that much. A dark flicker of satisfaction went through him. "Good. I can use that."
"Well?" the Apprentice continued, his voice harsh and cold. "Who are you people and what do you want? Kidnapping a Jedi is..."
"There wasn't a choice. I hope that..." His voice trailed off.
An impatient sigh. "Oh, just get on with it, Altos." Obi- Wan jumped. That was a woman's voice. It came from behind the man...Altos. He hadn't known she was there. Silently he cursed whatever was preventing him from using the Force. He should have been able to sense her presence. The fact that he couldn't brought home to him what he had lost, all over again. Once more, he had to fight down the wave of fury that rose up inside him.
"I'm opening the door now," Altos was saying. I've got a weapon, so back away from the door. Please."
Great. More hopping. Moving slowly, trying to keep the extent of his injuries from his captors, he edged backwards a few steps then stopped, every muscle coiled and ready for action. For an instant he even forgot about the hammering in his head. "Just one chance," he thought silently, "just give me one opening, one chance to escape..."
They didn't. The door swung open silently and two people entered - Altos, and the unseen woman. Both carried the same energy weapons that his attackers in the street had had, and both had them pointed steadily at his bare chest. Obi-Wan froze. Being shot three times already today was three times too many. He didn't intend to make it four. But if they would only relax their guard, just a little... He settled back a bit, waiting...
"Go on Altos," the woman said. "He won't bite." Obi-Wan glanced at her. She was older than Altos, who looked to be about the Jedi's age, or possibly a little older. The woman was probably the same age as Qui-Gon. Fine streaks of grey coloured her dark hair, and there were other, faint signs of age on her face, but despite this she looked more than a little dangerous. It wasn't the weapon she was holding in her hand. No, there was a look in her eyes - the Apprentice had seen it before, recognized it for what it was. The woman was a zealot. She had a cause, and was willing to die...or kill...for it. Obi-Wan heartily hoped it wouldn't come to that. He had the feeling she'd shoot him down without a qualm for that cause...whatever it might be. A faint shudder went through him. "Master," he thought unhappily, "I really wish you were here..."
Beyond that, the woman was dressed ornately. She was definitely Regaidian, and someone of rank. She wore long robes which were more decorative than functional and her hair was caught up in the latest Regaidian fashion. Obviously someone of importance, which meant that whoever was behind this was in a higher position of power than he had originally thought...which put a new, even more unsettling spin on things.
Obi-Wan let his eyes drift back to the man. He too was Regaidian, and well-dressed, although less elaborately than the woman. An aide, perhaps? He had the look of someone used to taking orders, rather than giving them. Narrowing his eyes, Obi-Wan addressed him, rather than the obvious leader. "Who's she?" His tone was harsh and commanding, and Altos answered unthinkingly.
"The Lady Auriga, she's..."
"Altos!" Her voice was a whiplash. The man cringed slightly and looked embarrassed. "An amateur," Obi-Wan catalogued him absently. "Not happy with the situation he finds himself in, but not able to find a way out of it. Obedient to the woman, and perhaps even loyal to her, but still a weakness. One I may be able to use..."
The Apprentice allowed his gaze to wander back to the woman, injecting a note of cold disinterest into his voice. "Well?" he said.
Her eyes met his in a moment of challenge. For a long moment neither moved, then she glanced away, frowning. "That legendary Jedi composure. It's very annoying."
"Sorry." He wasn't. Obi-Wan took the opportunity to lean against the nearby wall, trying to ease the strain his right leg was taking, wincing slightly as his other knee complained. She noticed and smiled. The smile didn't reach her eyes though.
"Don't get too comfortable," Auriga said. "My allies wish to see you. They...have questions which need to be answered."
Allies? What allies? Obi-Wan didn't allow his expression to change. "You do realize that the Jedi Council will send someone after me, don't you? They won't allow this to..."
The woman waved her hand dismissively. "It won't matter. By then it will be too late. My allies will have what they want." She turned away. Obi-Wan barely heard her as she continued softly, almost to herself: "...and so will I." Then she glanced back over her shoulder, gesturing to Altos. "Bring him." She moved toward the door.
Altos and Obi-Wan locked eyes. Slowly the Apprentice stood upright, trying to look as menacing as possible. It worked. The Regaidian paled and the hand holding the weapon shook slightly. Auriga turned and snapped. "If you try anything, Jedi, I will shoot you, and Altos will drag your unconscious body out of here by the heels. It will make no difference in the end - except perhaps to you. Your choice." The weapon in her hand was unwavering.
There was no choice, not really. With a mocking half-bow, Obi-Wan moved forward, limping after the woman. Together, the three of them left the cell.
END OF PART TWO