Adumbration
by Alex (splix1971@msn.com)
Belial lay on the narrow infirmary bed, staring up at the ceiling and
humming cheerfully.
Jedi, he thought contemptuously. You're pathetic, the lot of you. So ready
to believe the worst. You deserve to lose Qui-Gon.
Shaking his head, he sat up and heaved himself out of bed, strolling to the
storage cabinets and pulling out his clothing.
Idiots.
He dressed and pulled Obi-Wan's boots on.
They fit perfectly, he thought. I'll have to thank Obi-Wan for breaking them
in for me.
He smothered a giggle, and walked toward the door.
He was pulled up short by a tall human woman, quite old. Master Khadri, he
surmised, flicking an idle glance at her.
"Padawan Kenobi?"
"Yes?"
"What are you doing out of bed?"
He smiled and casually waved a hand. "I must leave. Excuse me."
The old woman snorted. "I don't think so, young man. Back into bed."
He frowned, and waved his hand again. "I don't require an examination."
Her face went blank for a moment, and then she scowled at him. "What do you
think you're doing, Padawan?"
She was strong, and Belial grew frustrated. "Get out of my way."
She gave him a skeptical look, but spoke quietly. "You're not well, child.
You've had a traumatic experience. I can help you. Now--" and she sent out a
plume of healing Force--"please. Back into bed."
He pushed past her, then stopped, halted by a thin wall of Force. The hag,
he thought furiously, and turned around, glaring at her.
Her eyes widened, and her hands flew to her throat.
"How dare you?" he said, walking to her, standing eye to eye with her. Her
face was paling, and her eyes bulged horribly. He caught the mental alarm
and obliterated it before anyone was alerted.
She fell to the floor. Dispassionately he watched her convulse.
Her convulsions gradually lessened, became mere twitches.
Three, two, one...and they finally ceased.
Belial dragged her body over to the storage cabinets and propped it up
against them.
He trotted out of the infirmary.
Qui-Gon stood in the doorway of Obi-Wan's room, looking around for the last
time. He walked over to the young man's chest of drawers and scrutinized the
collection of objects lined up neatly on its top. A small carving, a golden
dragon of Abbadon. A k'hrah nest, tiny and perfect. Some holos...Obi-Wan and
Bant. Obi-Wan and Reeft. Obi-Wan in mid-leap, his saber held aloft,
executing the third kata.
One holo was set apart from the others.
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan had been seventeen. The holo was from a mission, a wedding of
sovereigns on Djais. They were both smiling broadly; Qui-Gon's arm was
thrown about his apprentice's shoulders.
In front of the holo was the stone that Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan for his
thirteenth birthday.
Qui-Gon turned abruptly and went to his own bedroom.
He stripped off his robe and knelt to meditate.
Peace would not come.
You are Jedi no more.
No more.
He rose and pulled some clothing out. He undressed, folding his Jedi tunics
and leggings neatly, placing them at the foot of his sleep couch.
He dressed in dark clothing...his blue tunic, black boots and leggings. He
caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his mouth twisted bitterly.
Your whoring clothes, he thought. How very apt. If he'd had other clothes,
he would have worn them. But he did not, and could no longer call himself
Jedi, and so would not appear as one.
I leave as I came, he thought. Empty-handed.
His eyes strayed to his own chest of drawers. There was only one item on
it...a replica of the holo of himself and Obi-Wan. He took it and stared at
it. Pressed it to his face.
/Obi-Wan.../
Consumed by grief, his soul cried out now, and he allowed his remorse to
overwhelm him. He was unworthy of Obi-Wan, he knew it; the young man's
fineness was like a brilliant beacon in gloom. Obi-Wan had always trusted
him, even when Qui-Gon was in doubt. And he had betrayed him time and again,
and when the reality of his feelings struck him he disregarded the boy's
reactions.
I should have been watching him, instead of lusting blindly.
No...it was love. Love. It had to be. Lust did not break the heart.
And he had been truthful with Obi-Wan. He had shown him the truth of what
lay in his soul. Obi-Wan was his heart's desire.
He looked at the holo again.
The Council would not hear him.
Would Obi-Wan hear him?
He had to try again. He was no longer a Jedi.
If he was compelled to leave, let him leave as a man.
He tucked the holo into his black robe and ran to the healing dome.
Belial made his way to the entrance to the Council chamber.
A droid stood in front of it.
"Can you tell me if Master Windu is still inside?" he inquired politely.
"The Council Chamber is unoccupied," responded the droid somewhat prissily.
"Oh, how convenient," replied Belial, reaching out and deactivating the
droid in one fluid motion.
He pulled at the door. Locked. But simple enough to overcome.
He concentrated, sending tendrils of energy into the lock, bypassing the
intricate coded failsafe. There was a tiny click. He slipped inside the
Chamber and cast a wide net of Force, shielding himself from detection. He
relocked the door, smiling. The Jedi Temple was built to withstand attackers
from without, not saboteurs from within. This would be ridiculously easy.
He stepped to the center of the room. There was a pattern on the floor,
inlaid stone. He shrugged off Obi-Wan's brown robe and dropped to the
floor, looking intently at the center of the design.
Good. Good.
He focused again. The centermost stone rose slowly. It was cylindrical,
about half a meter long. He levitated the stone towards him, set it down
carefully. He powered up the Jedi's saber, a short, narrow beam of light..
Slowly, patiently, he bored a hole into the stone. When it was about six
centimeters deep, he withdrew a tiny object from a pocket.
A thermal detonator, no bigger than his thumbnail. Hideously expensive, but
well woth it, the tiny baradium fusion device was virtually undetectable and
had a blast range of thirty-five meters. It would disintegrate every last
Council member, and there would not be the smallest particle of flesh or
bone remaining. He would have preferred something more painful, but there
could be no opportunity for escape.
He set the tiny trigger and adhered the device to the hollow he'd created in
the stone.
With painstaking slownesss and care he replaced the stone. Baradium was
unstable. A tiny jog, and he'd be the only one to be disintegrated.
Perfect. It was done. No dust, no chipping...nothing to indicate that
anything unusual had transpired.
He stood up. It was time to leave.
Qui-Gon prowled the halls of the healing dome.
No Obi-Wan, though he saw a few Jedi he knew, who greeted him with
familiarity.
No one knows yet, he thought. Just as well.
No one had seen Obi-Wan or Master Billaba. Irritated, Qui-Gon continued his
search, burst into the short-term infirmary, heedless of propriety.
Empty. Damnation.
His eye caught a flash of brown robe across the room. He looked closely.
He ran to the storage cabinet, dropped to his knees.
Master Khadri. She'd tended Qui-Gon as a child...her eyes were wide,
staring. Her face looked terrified. He rose, lifted her gently, and
deposited her on the bed. He shut her eyes, and turned to the comm unit, to
notify another of the healers.
As he made his way to the comm, he felt a ripple in the Force.
"Obi-Wan?"
He turned, following the faint trace.
Only a disarrayed bed. And yet...he walked to it.
On the floor next to it lay a discarded sleep tunic and leggings.
He picked the tunic up. He caught the scent of the soap that Obi-Wan wore.
He concentrated.
Darkness...
No!
/Obi-Wan!/
His hand flew automatically to his belt, felt nothing. Of course. He'd laid
the saber on the floor of the Council chamber before he'd left. He cursed.
He all but ran through the halls of the healing dome.
He stopped everyone he saw. No one had seen Padawan Kenobi. Those who had
seen Master Khadri had not seen her in some time. No, she'd been fine. What
was wrong?
"Master Khadri is dead," he said tersely, not bothering to answer any more
questions. Fear gnawed at his insides. Had someone abducted Obi-Wan, and
killed Master Khadri? How in all the hells had they escaped undetected?
/Obi-Wan! Answer me!/
His fear turned to rage. Force help you if he's harmed when I find you, he
thought.
Depa. Depa was the last one who'd seen Obi-Wan.
He tore through the Jedi Temple, to the Council Chamber.
Belial closed the door and relocked it.
No one had seen him. Good. The fewer people he had to kill, the better. He
already regretted not disposing of the old woman's body more efficiently;
then again, he reflected, her disappearance would cause more comment than
her death. Let the Jedi think that Obi-Wan had killed her and run off, mad,
despairing...given his supposed current state of mind, anything would be
possible.
He started down the corridor that led out of the Council's rooms.
And was almost mowed down by Qui-Gon.
"Padawan!" Qui-Gon's face was white, and his voice was harsh.
Damn it, Belial thought. He cast about for an appropriate reaction, all the
while admiring the fit of Qui-Gon's clothes. You should dress like that all
the time, Qui-Gon. Come to think of it, now you can...for a while, at least.
He stumbled back, feigning fear. "Stay away from me!"
Qui-Gon didn't move. "Obi-Wan!" he cried imploringly, holding his hands out.
"Padawan-" He stopped, and Belial could read his thoughts.
Not anymore.
"I thought you'd been abducted, Obi-Wan. Master Khadri is dead, what are you
doing here...what's happened?"
Belial watched him struggle for calm.
"Obi-Wan...what has happened?"
Belial fell to his knees again, sobbing. "Master--oh, Master!" He crumpled
to the floor, weeping loudly. This is absurd, he thought. My knees are
starting to bruise. But it was the fastest way to stave off questions. I
don't suppose Kenobi's much of a weeper, thought Belial. Qui-Gon would be
better equipped to deal with his tears.
He felt powerful arms lift him and carry him through the halls of the
Temple.
Qui-Gon, thoroughly distressed, held his weeping apprentice--former
apprentice, he corrected himself grimly--closely to him as he took the most
untraveled route possible back to their quarters. He smiled wryly at
himself, despite his pain.
I don't want anyone to think that I'm absconding with you, my love. I'm in
enough disgrace as it is. Though that was precisely what he wanted to
do...he wanted to disappear with his precious burden. He held Obi-Wan, who
clung to him now, loving the feel of his strong arms, of his body, the curve
of thigh, hot under his hand, the muscular sweep of back...
Stop! he all but screamed at himself. Why do you think you've been expelled
from the Order? Why do you think you're fleeing from curious eyes? He'll
never be yours again. Look at him; he clings to you, his former Master, his
teacher...his rapist. You will never make love to him again. You will never
be his master again. The bond is dead. Pray that Obi-Wan will overcome the
deficiency you inflicted upon him, that you haven't damaged him irreparably.
He arrived at their door, carried the young man inside, into his room, lay
him upon his sleep couch.
Obi-Wan had fallen into a fitful semiconsciousness. He curled up on the
couch, murmuring to himself. Tears wetted his cheeks.
Qui-Gon, stricken with grief and guilt, knelt beside Obi-Wan, stroking his
hair and his back. His eyes filled. Dear Padawan...what I've done to you, he
thought.
But perhaps now...
He decided. Now.
He lay his hands upon the youth.
/My love...my dearest...I meant you no harm. I only wished for us to love
one another./
He concentrated, felt the Living Force. The Unifying Force.
They coalesced, and flowed together as one.
The energy was almost visible as it poured out of Qui-Gon, from his soul,
through his body. It was like light bleeding from his fingertips...warm
golden Light, and love in its purest form. Selfless. Giving. Undemanding.
Truthful. Blinding, dazzling love, and Qui-Gon rejoiced as he felt a crack
in the wall of Obi-Wan's defenses.
At last, Obi-Wan would know.
Belial was unprepared. His eyes flew open.
Qui-Gon snatched his hands away.
Obi-Wan sat up, his eyes slitted and full of malice.
Qui-Gon stood. He'd felt the Darkness.
"Obi-Wan..."
He couldn't go on. He was cold all over.
Obi-Wan ignited his saber, pointed it at Qui-Gon's chest, backed him into
the common room.
"Oh, gods," whispered Qui-Gon. "What have I done?"
To his utter shock, Obi-Wan laughed. "Not a thing...Master."
"Padawan...please..."
"Pleasant as it is to hear you address me so affectionately, Qui-Gon," the
young man replied, "I must correct your error. I am not your Padawan."
"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon was dumbfounded. How long had Obi-Wan been a
servant of Darkness...months, years? Was it possible?
Obi-Wan held Qui-Gon a saber's length away and moved to the comm unit.
"I am not your padawan," he repeated, "though I must say I almost wish I
were. Behold..." and he opened himself up to Qui-Gon's mental probing.
The darkness flowed, oily, molten, frigid, overwhelming.
Qui-Gon recoiled in horror. Not Obi-Wan! Not his beloved padawan! A similar
Force signature, to be sure...similar enough to go unnoticed by a careless
master...but underneath, the taint of Darkness, noisome, dreadful. And...a
clone. Forbidden, a theft of life to create life...this time for the sake of
evil. From his own apprentice...
Obi-Wan!
"What have you done with my padawan?" His voice was soft, deadly. He looked
at the saber the clone held in his hands...it was Obi-Wan's. He'd watched
the boy build it. His heart clenched, and a fear and rage he'd never known
before overwhelmed him. He moved into a ready stance.
"Careful, Qui-Gon," the clone said, his eyes dancing gleefully. "I hold his
life in my hands."
"Where is he?" Qui-Gon's voice grew even softer.
The clone grinned and hit some switches on the comm unit.
The hologram swelled to life-size, a clear, perfect resolution.
A young Zabrakian, standing at attention...
....and at his feet, Obi-Wan. Naked. Bound. A collar around his throat, and a
bruise on one cheek. He appeared to be unconscious.
The Zabrakian prodded his captive with a booted foot. Obi-Wan's eyes
fluttered open.
He hurt.
His ribs were on fire, and all his muscles were aching unbearably. One
shoulder was on the verge of separation, and he felt nauseated. He'd
withstood the presence of Belial's Master as long as he could before
unconsciousness claimed him. His body was weakened, and his soul was
weakening. The presence was so powerful. He wasn't sure he could fight
another assault.
He felt the foot in his spine.
Let me be, he thought. Let me lie here. Or kill me.
Again the foot, harder, against his injured shoulder, and the sudden sharp
flare of pain made him open his eyes.
There was a blue glow. A hologram.
Belial. And Qui-Gon...Qui-Gon! His master, held at bay by his student's
saber.
He struggled for breath.
"Master!" he cried, trying to rise on one elbow. The pain and his bonds made
it impossible.
Qui-Gon was staring at him, and there was no sound...
Damn you, Belial...
Qui-Gon's mouth moved, and though there was silence, he could tell what
Qui-Gon had said.
"Obi-Wan."
He felt a rush of terror and exhilaration seize him. Qui-Gon was unarmed.
Obi-Wan had watched him lay his saber down. Would Belial kill him now?
He rolled over, and it hurt him, the pressure on his arms, oh gods, did it
hurt, but he bore it, looked at the guard.
"Please," he begged. "Don't let him kill Qui-Gon. Please."
"It's not for me to decide, Jedi."
Obi-Wan turned back to the image of his master. Qui-Gon's eyes never left
him, and he felt an inexplicable joy for all the danger he was in. Qui-Gon
stood there, so unafraid, so calm...so noble, the most wondrous sight that
Obi-Wan had ever seen, heedless of the glowing saber mere centimeters from
his chest, unconcerned for his own well-being. His eyes were fixed upon his
Padawan, full of anxiety. And love.
This may be my last opportunity, he thought, and he spoke.
"Master...love you. I love you."
Qui-Gon smiled at him. He opened his mouth to speak.
The hologram disappeared.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, reached out with the last of his fading strength.
Protect him. Help him.
He almost smiled. He could die now. Happily.
They would not turn him.
Never.
The hologram went out, and Qui-Gon turned his attention back to the clone,
who was regarding him with an odd expression on his face.
"How long?" he inquired, his voice deceptively mild.
"Since the day you first fucked me," said the clone sneeringly.
"You planted the holodisc for the Council."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"That's not your concern."
"Who are you?"
"You may call me Darth Belial."
Qui-Gon nodded. A Sith. Why not, he thought wearily. What else could there
be?
"What do you want with my apprentice?"
"He's my apprentice now...Qui-Gon."
"Hardly a willing one, I think," Qui-Gon said dryly.
"All in good time."
"I doubt that very much."
"You do?" said the clone mockingly. "Very soon now, Qui-Gon...he's close to
breaking. I can feel it. The bond between us has replaced his bond with you.
He suffers so beautifully, Qui-Gon, so beautifully. You've trained him well.
But he will break. Every time he feels a surge of hope, there I
am...crushing it. And he responds so well!" the clone laughed, and
brandished the saber at Qui-Gon. "Ah...careful, there. I see you preparing.
In any case, he's mine now. You relinquished your right to him years ago."
"I had no right to him."
"Words," replied the clone calmly. "I'm weary of this, Qui-Gon." He raised
his saber to attack position.
"You would strike down an unarmed man?"
"I am no Jedi."
"Indeed you are not."
"Neither are you, remember?" Belial snarled. "You were a marvelous fuck, but
you've outlived your usefulness."
Qui-Gon waited.
"Why won't you attack me, Qui-Gon?"
Qui-Gon's eyes bored into him, blue steel.
"Release my apprentice," he said. "Do as you wish with me."
"I'll do as I wish anyway, you damned fool."
"Release him," Qui-Gon pressed, pushing a wave of Force toward the clone.
Not compulsion. Light, and love.
"Stop that!"
"He will never turn to Darkness. You know that."
"He's turning already. He'll join me, and sooner than you think."
"No."
"Yes!" The saber wavered.
"I love him, Belial." Qui-Gon's voice was like a caress.
"That's why I'm going to kill you," the clone whispered.
"And he loves me."
"Shut UP!" Belial cried. His mouth shook.
"Light and love. He is strong in the Force...you must know that. But he is a
true Jedi. He will never turn."
"He will, you stupid, arrogant fool..."
"Have you ever known love, Belial?"
The clone gave an enraged cry, and at that moment Qui-Gon sprang.
But Belial was quicker. He deactivated his saber, and smashed Qui-Gon across
the face with all his might. As Qui-Gon fell, Belial sent a dark current of
energy into him, rendering him unconscious.
Belial knelt and examined him. He bent down and kissed Qui-Gon's
unresponsive mouth fiercely. "I know love, Qui-Gon," he whispered. He stood,
and viciously kicked the unconscious man in the thigh. He sobbed and ignited
the saber again, raised it above his head.
And swung it into the comm unit. There was a crashing, sizzling noise, and
sparks flew crazily.
He deactivated the saber and threw it down beside Qui-Gon's inert form.
"Sleep," he hissed. "Sleep. And if you do manage to wake up, I'll send
Obi-Wan to cut your throat."
He swiped angrily at his eyes and stalked out.
The guard had walked away from Obi-Wan, and now he returned, holding an
old-fashioned syringe.
"What is that?" said Obi-Wan.
"Something to ensure your docility," replied the Zabrakian quietly. He knelt
next to Obi-Wan and pushed the needle into his hip before Obi-Wan could
react.
"Your idea?"
The guard smirked. "Lord Belial's. A practical solution, though."
"Why is that?"
"We're leaving Coruscant, Jedi. It'll be much easier to smuggle you aboard a
ship if you're unconscious, "
Obi-Wan focused on the guard. His eyes were pale amber and fixed on his
captive. Obi-Wan's eyes widened. He hadn't caught it before; he'd been
consumed by fear, anger and pain. But now he was able to think more clearly,
and he felt the eddy of the Force.
"You're Force-sensitive."
"Yes."
Obi-Wan studied him intently. The Zabrakian's shields were strong. He would
have presumed that anyone in the employ of the Sith was dedicated to
Darkness, and yet he caught no true feeling of Darkness from this man. He
felt a brief sting of compassion for the Zabrakian. Whatever else he was, he
was strong in the Force. How had the Jedi missed this one? Surely he wasn't
much older than Obi-Wan himself.
"Don't waste your sympathy on me, Jedi."
"What is your name?" asked Obi-Wan. He felt dizzy; the drug was beginning to
take effect.
"My name is not important."
"You know who it is you serve."
"I'm not an idiot, Jedi. I know of the Sith and their past."
"And you choose to serve them."
The Zabrakian bent over Obi-Wan. "Have a care, Jedi. I'm not cruel like Lord
Belial, but I advise you not to anger me."
Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. He lay his head on the cold stone floor,
feeling the drug trickling through his veins. He looked back at
the guard, who had risen. The drug was numbing the pain in his ribs and
shoulder, a small comfort. He was so tired; his eyes were closing. One last
thing, though; he knew, he was almost positive, but the Force was not his to
command, and he needed the guard's help.
"He didn't kill Qui-Gon."
The Zabrakian closed his eyes for a moment.
"No."
"Why?"
The guard shook his head. "I don't know."
"Won't you please help me?" He had to try...
The guard knelt again and looked at the Jedi, his gaze unwavering.
"I serve the Sith, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Obi-Wan shook his head slightly. He tried to speak, to reason, to plead, but
he couldn't, and his eyes closed and the blackness claimed him.
The Zabrakian stared at the drugged, bound youth for a long time.
The Jedi had endured much. The guard had seen the blood on the inside of the
prisoner's thighs, and he'd felt the exhaustion and pain of the young man
through the Force. He'd seen Belial storm out of the interrogation chamber,
cursing in half a dozen languages, his mouth bleeding. A short time later
he'd heard the agonized screams of the Jedi. He'd gone to another room where
the cries were inaudible. Torture for the purpose of extracting information
was one thing; retribution for what was probably an escape attempt was
another thing entirely.
He admired the Jedi, he realized almost unwillingly. Lord Belial had often
referred to them as a passive order of monks, soft and weak, but that was
patently false. The young Jedi was possessed of remarkable strength, despite
the physical torments inflicted upon him, and the stealthy, methodical
assault upon his mind and heart by the Sith Lords...both of them. The guard
had felt the presence of the clone's Master, a frightening, yet intoxicating
presence, a presence that had never demanded the guard's allegiance. The
Zabrakian wondered at that sometimes.
Obi-Wan shifted, and moaned as his broken ribs ground against each other.
There was still pain, even with the drug, the guard realized.
He stretched out a hand, laying it on the injured body. Visualized the
damaged ribs, saw other things: torn muscles, bruised internal organs. Sent
healing Force into the Jedi.
Live, and fight, Jedi, he thought.
Belial maneuvered a speeder bike through the sublevels, ignoring the shouts
and curses of those he narrowly missed hitting. He bent over the controls,
scowling. Time was short now. They had to evacuate.
It goes badly, he thought. I've disrupted my own plans, and for what? For
the two of them...
He dove into an alleyway and touched down. He slowed, but the bike still
skidded, fetching up
against the far wall with a crash, crushing the fore-sensors and
instruments. He discarded the speeder and slipped through a narrow door.
He stopped on the other side. He felt a powerful urge to return to the Jedi
Temple, to collect Qui-Gon, steal him from the fools who had cast him out.
Could he be turned? wondered Belial. It would be a greater challenge than
turning Obi-Wan. Perhaps the three of them, together...Belial shuddered
pleasurably. It was almost too delightful to contemplate...but it was too
late to go back for him now. He started down the dark, twisting tunnel
toward the Tombs.
No. If Qui-Gon awoke, he would search for Obi-Wan. And doubtless would not
stop until his beloved apprentice was found. The Jedi would not aid him.
They might search for the apprentice for a time...but failing to find him,
would conclude that Obi-Wan had left voluntarily. Even if Qui-Gon were to
reveal Belial's existence, there was little chance that the Council would
believe him.
And so...Belial would leave a trail. Qui-Gon would follow, and then Belial
would decide whether or not he could be turned.
Always two, no more, no less.
No, perhaps not. Times changed, and perhaps it was time for the Sith to
change with them.
Either way, Obi-Wan was his. His fingers itched to roam over the Jedi's body
again. He was so exquisite.. His innocence and purity of soul was beautiful,
and his cries of pain and his struggles against Belial's advances were
incomparably sweet. Once we're on Sullust and the Jedi Council is gone, I
can focus on you, Obi-Wan, and the eradication of your will. We'll have time
and time, and I will enjoy every second of it. Whether or not you enjoy it
is not my concern.
But I think that eventually, you will enjoy it.
He came to the proper door, leaned into the scanner. The door clicked open,
and
Belial went straight to the interrogation chamber, heedless of the continued
activity on the screens above him.
He swung the door open. The Zabrakian was standing over an unconscious
Obi-Wan.
"You gave him the drug?"
"Yes."
"Good." He knelt beside the Jedi, ran a hand over his flank.
He glared up at the Zabrakian. "Did you remove his collar?"
"No."
He touched Obi-Wan again, then rose and grasped the guard by the front of
his tunic. "You healed his ribs."
"Yes."
"I don't recall telling you to do that," he said, pulling the guard forward
until he stood nose to nose with him.
"You didn't." The guard's voice was soft, but not fearful.
"Give me one reason not to disembowel you right now."
The guard said nothing. Belial shoved him away, and the Zabrakian righted
himself gracefully.
"Ready the ship," said Belial, turning away from the guard, "and if I see
you near him again, you'll pay with your life, I promise you that."
The guard turned and walked out.
Belial sank to the floor again and gathered the Jedi into his arms. He ran
his fingertips over the slight growth of beard on the young man's face. He
touched Obi-Wan's lips, that luscious mouth, slightly slack. He leaned down
and took Obi-Wan's lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it, biting gently,
his tongue exploring the Jedi's unresisting mouth. A faint moan escaped the
Jedi, and Belial felt himself hardening. Reluctantly he withdrew, staring
hungrily
at his mouth, the lower lip vulnerable and bruised, slightly swollen,
reddened. He shivered.
Ah, if there were time now, Obi-Wan...perhaps I'll experiment on Sullust.
There
are so many drugs that weaken resistance, and enhance pleasure.
So many ways to intensify sensation. So many devices to make you feel
every nerve in your body, alive with rapture or excruciation. A judicious
amount of pleasure intermingled with agony...even a Jedi cannot fight
forever.
He rose and unbound the restraints that held his prisoner so securely. He
tossed them aside and stripped off his robe, and wrapped it around Obi-Wan.
He lifted Obi-Wan, carrying him out of the chamber, through the room with
its banks of monitors, and into the narrow hallway.
He came to another door. There was a keypad next to it, and Belial hefted
Obi-Wan's limp body over one shoulder and hit a series of characters. The
door slid open, and Belial stepped into a lift.
Up, and up, and there was a pressure in his ears. He felt Obi-Wan stirring,
and he frowned. Hadn't that fool of a guard administered sufficient amounts
of the drug? He'd neglected to bring any more with him. He lay Obi-Wan on
the floor of the lift and checked his belt. Nothing but food capsules, a
tiny toolkit...wait. A medi-kit. He rummaged through it hastily. Hells. No
sedatives. He returned the kit to his belt and picked Obi-Wan up again as
the lift came smoothly to a halt.
The door opened, and he stepped out into a luxurious apartment, with crimson
walls and dark furnishings. The door slid shut again, and Belial turned to
gaze at the ornate carved panel that hid the lift door. He smiled. The
public trough was bottomless, apparently.
He set Kenobi down on a low couch and hurried into the bedchamber. He found
the outfit that was readied for him, shed the tunic and leggings, and
dressed in the loose dark trousers, tunic, and cap of a Senate emergency
medic.
He carefully tucked the incongruous braid into the cap. He
went to the 'fresher and activated the antigrav gurney that leaned against
one wall, and pushed it into the receiving room where Obi-Wan lay. He
positioned the gurney and hauled the Jedi onto it, pulling the restraining
straps around him tightly. Obi-Wan stirred and moaned again. Belial hurried
back to the 'fresher, pulled open cabinets and drawers frantically. There. A
mild sedative, but fairly fast; Obi-Wan might be conscious, but he wouldn't
be strong enough to attract attention. He went back to where Obi-Wan lay and
pulled the hood of the Jedi's robe up, concealing his face. He ripped open
the packet and sank the single-use needle into Obi-Wan's flesh. Obi-Wan made
a small noise and his body twitched.
Belial pushed the gurney out into the crowded halls of the Senate living
quarters complex. He kept his face down, using Force to navigate and clear a
path. The crowd parted for him, and he hurried to the wing's docking bay
where the Zabrakian waited with the ship. Almost there...he saw the ship
now, its cargo hold hatch open, and he increased his pace, seeing Obi-Wan
awakening. The Jedi moaned again, and Belial saw his mouth moving, trying to
form words. Belial's hand dropped to Obi-Wan's leg and his fingers dug into
the Jedi's thigh, a warning gesture.
/Be silent, Jedi. Or I will begin to fire randomly into the crowd./
He felt sick again.
But something was different, though it took him some time to realize what it
was.
Slowly it came to him.
He was moving. And he heard voices. Hundreds of voices, the normal bustle of
daily activity.
He couldn't see. And as awareness returned to him, he felt the comforting
familiarity of his robe wrapped around him. Automatically he went to push
his hood away from his eyes, only to find himself unable to move.
Restrained. Still. He contained his despair, and focused on his
surroundings, listening intently.
He heard normal conversations...the mundane and the fantastic, dozens of
languages. A public place, then, or public enough as made no difference.
Still on Coruscant. He felt a hand brush against his leg.
He was prone, his body held still with wide straps. Felt an oddly familiar
hum, and recognized the noise. An antigrav, and he finally knew how their
departure from Coruscant was being engineered. A weary sort of desperation
seized him, and he tried to shout, but could only produce the most pathetic
of sounds. No one paid him any attention.
He felt a pressure on his leg, and heard the clone's threat.
He was sickened by the clone's casual disregard for life.
/You have a choice, Obi-Wan. You remain still, and no one will be harmed. If
you cry out...these innocent creatures will suffer the consequences./
Obi-Wan made no futher attempts to be heard.
The clone and his prisoner boarded the ship. Obi-Wan felt the straps of the
stretcher being unfastened. Belial lifted him off and set him down, pushing
his hood back.
Obi-Wan blinked and looked around him, at his surroundings. His vision was
still a bit hazy, but he was able to tell that he was in a small cell. There
was a sanitary unit and a cot, attached to the wall; but for those, the cell
was empty. Belial grabbed his wrists, and clapped a set of binders on them.
He crouched down next to Obi-Wan and lay a hand on the side of his face.
Obi-Wan looked at Belial.
"Qui-Gon..." he whispered.
Belial shook his head impatiently. "What of him?"
"Not...not dead."
"Not yet."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "You couldn't."
Belial smiled at Obi-Wan, a small, pointed smile. "I know you wish it were
so, Obi-Wan. No harm in indulging your fantasies." He patted Obi-Wan's cheek
softly.
"You couldn't. Why?"
The clone stared at him for a long moment. Then he inclined his body toward
Obi-Wan, and his mouth found Obi-Wan's and fastened upon it. Obi-Wan's hands
rose to fight him off, but he was still so very weak, and he could do no
more than press his hands against the chest of the clone, seeking purchase
and finding none. He felt the beating of the clone's heart, and the rise and
fall of his breathing. The clone's hands closed upon Obi-Wan's shoulders and
pulled him closer. His tongue slowed, probing the inside of Obi-Wan's mouth.
Obi-Wan offered no response. He allowed the clone to ravage his mouth. He
would not fight him.
He wanted to, though, so badly. He'd shut out the memory of the rape, but
now all of the horrifying imagery came flooding back, and he wanted to pull
away, to strike at the clone with all of his strength.
But he did not. He remained where he was, not struggling, and the clone's
unwelcome intrusion seemed to go on forever, until Obi-Wan wanted to scream.
Finally it stopped, and Obi-Wan let out a low sobbing breath.
Belial stood. "True, Obi-Wan...I let Qui-Gon live. You want to know why.
I'll let the notion enliven your idle moments on the journey to Sullust."
Belial exited the cell and touched a control on the outside of the cell
wall. Immediately crimson beams of light spanned the doorway of the cell.
"Be careful, Obi-Wan. I don't want you damaged."
He left, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes.
Meditation came more easily now. He was calmer, not entirely at peace, but
it would come.
He hoped.
There was a low, rumbling noise, and Qui-Gon was annoyed by it.
/Leave me alone./
/Qui-Gon...can you hear me?/
He felt a gentle tug of Force, pulling him out of the abyss of sleep.
His eyes opened.
Mace.
Qui-Gon sat up. "What do you want?"
Mace regarded him with raised eyebrows. "A thank-you would be appreciated."
Qui-Gon glared at him. "Ah. Thank you for ejecting me from the Order, Mace.
I'm sure the Council is indebted to you."
Mace sighed. "Qui-Gon, you were always a stubborn fool, and you'll always be
a stubborn fool."
Qui-Gon was silent.
"All right, that's enough," snapped Mace. "Obi-Wan has disappeared, and one
of the healers is dead. Depa Billaba can't remember leaving the boy in the
healing dome. I find you unconscious, and your comm unit destroyed. I just
spent three hours trying to waken you. I sense Darkness and fear and anger.
I think that you may be able to tell me what is going on, Qui-Gon. Do
correct me if I'm mistaken."
Qui-Gon pushed himself to his feet. "Why should you believe me, Master
Windu?"
Mace struck his palm with his fist. "Damn you, Qui-Gon...something's wrong."
"How extremely perceptive."
Mace rushed forward and seized Qui-Gon by the front of his tunic. "Tell me,
Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon gazed into Mace's dark eyes coolly. "Let go."
Mace released him and turned away. When he spoke again, his voice was soft.
"Where is Padawan Kenobi?"
"Padawan Kenobi has not been at the Temple for days." Qui-Gon's voice was
icy.
Mace wheeled about. "What are you saying?"
"That was not Obi-Wan."
"Qui-Gon..." Mace shook his head.
"Qui-Gon shrugged, walked into his bedroom. Mace followed him.
"You're not serious, are you?"
Qui-Gon ignored him. He picked up the holo of himself and Obi-Wan, tucked it
into his robe. He walked back into the common room. Obi-Wan's lightsaber,
discarded by the clone, had rolled into the niche under the comm unit. He
retrieved it and clipped it to his belt.
"Qui-Gon..."
"Yes?"
Mace's voice was unsure. That was a rarity.
"An impostor?"
"A clone."
Mace exhaled deeply. "Master Khadri?"
"Murdered."
"And your padawan?"
"A prisoner."
"Gods," Mace muttered.
"Excuse me." Qui-Gon brushed past the elder Jedi.
"Wait. Where are you going?" Mace caught his arm.
"To find Obi-Wan."
"How do you intend to find him?"
"Don't worry about it, Mace." He stopped, turned around. "One thing...I
found the clone outside the Council Chamber. I don't know what he was
doing...but you should exercise caution."
"Thank you, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon nodded and pivoted on his heel.
"Qui-Gon! Wait!"
Mace walked toward him. Almost hesitantly he withdrew an object from his
robe.
Qui-Gon's lightsaber.
Mace put it in his hand. Qui-Gon's fingers curled around it. He felt a surge
of joy. I thought that it was gone forever, he thought. He clipped it to his
belt next to Obi-Wan's saber, looking questioningly at Mace.
Mace met his gaze levelly. "I was going to destroy it. After I discovered
you, I thought that perhaps...you would need it. I see I was right."
"I'm grateful to you."
"I don't need your gratitude. Find your apprentice."
"You didn't ask me about the holodisc."
Mace looked uncomfortable. "We can discuss that when Padawan Kenobi is safe
and returned to the Temple."
"And the Council?"
"Leave that to me."
The corner of Qui-Gon's mouth twitched upwards.
"Thank you."
"Master Jinn...may the Force be with you."
Qui-Gon gripped Mace's hand and left his quarters.
/Obi-Wan...I am coming for you. Fear not, my love. I am coming./
Qui-Gon stood outside the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu's query ringing in his
ears.
"How do you intend to find him?"
It was a daunting task. Coruscant was populated by billions of souls. How
indeed?
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and reached out through the Force. But not for
Obi-Wan.
He reached out for the clone.
He felt a stab of bitter anger for a moment. Were it not for me, the bond...
but quickly banished the thought. He was being self-destructive. Hadn't Yoda
told him time and again that the past never returned?
"Make the decision, make another. Remake one past, you cannot."
Qui-Gon half-smiled, began again.
Cleared his mind.
Was calm.
At peace.
Slowly, carefully, he began to sift through the thousands of Force
signatures in the Temple and its surrounding area, seeking the clone's.
He brushed gently against the minds of the unwary, and veered off politely,
never crossing the threshold of the unsuspecting...several dozen young
initiates, not yet apprentices, and as yet unschooled in shielding
themselves,
delightful in their openness. Padawan apprentices in unguarded sleep.
Two young Knights, engaged in sex, heedless of all but the pleasure of the
moment. Masters who were so powerful that the Force simply emanated
from them radiantly, obvious to any Force-adept. On and
on he went, searching for that thin trail of Darkness, casting about in his
memory for the clone's imprint. He'd connected with him, briefly, and that
link, tenuous as it was, was enough to establish...there. And there. He'd
found it at last, the signature, and it was like seeing Obi-Wan swathed in
deep shadows. Too close to Obi-Wan, that genetic stamp...the clone was a
copy, and a copy could never exactly duplicate an original. There was always
a weakness, a flaw...something not quite right.
It is not Obi-Wan, he told himself. His stomach did a sickening roll as he
recalled the two nights he'd spent with the clone. The confession, Qui-Gon's
awkward declaration of love. The joining of their bodies, Qui-Gon believing
the whole time he'd achieved his heart's desire. The betrayal, and Qui-Gon
knew that he should have known then, that Obi-Wan would never have allowed
things to go as far as they had and then run weeping to the Council. Qui-Gon
had ignored this uncharacteristic behavior, too self absorbed to see the
truth, multifaceted, shifting, yet ultimately evident. The benefit of
hindsight, he thought.
The clone claimed to be a Sith Lord. Improbable, but he'd caught
unmistakable assurance from the clone...Darth Belial. He was a young man; if
what he said were true, if the clone was indeed a Sith Lord, there had to be
a Master. A being more twisted and evil, and Qui-Gon thought
of his young apprentice in the clutches of such Darkness and shuddered.
Obi-Wan had to be rescued. Immediately. Qui-Gon's urge to proceed hastily
and his fear for Obi-Wan conflicted with the Jedi ideal of action while at
peace, of
oneness with the Force. For a moment he thought of the Council's decision.
You are Jedi no more.
And yet. There was the matter of Mace. And his return of Qui-Gon's
lightsaber. There was tacit acceptance in that gesture. But his status as
Jedi was far from assured.
When Obi-Wan is safe...
Obi-Wan. The sight of his padawan, bound and bruised and clearly weakened,
had torn at his heart, but he had seen at once the look of terror and hope
on the young man's face, and so he had not shown the fear and anger that
raged within. He knew that Obi-Wan, though strong in the Force and possessed
of incredible courage, still looked to Qui-Gon in moments of doubt or his
own perceived weakness.
He'd looked at Obi-Wan's face, that dear face he knew as well as his own, so
young, so ineffably sweet. Obi-Wan, the eager pupil, thirsting for knowledge
and enlightenment. The warrior-Jedi, top of his form in drills and tests.
The restless boy, still impatient in many ways, but absorbing instruction
with commendable humility.And the man, quiet and dignified, yet ready with a
quip or a smile in a difficult situation. He looked into the eyes of the man
Obi-Wan had become in his nine years of apprenticeship, and he'd been
stunned anew by the strength of his emotions. He'd been unable to do more
than whisper Obi-Wan's name.
A change had come over Obi-Wan's face then. He'd turned to the man standing
over him and spoken to him. Qui-Gon was unable to make out his words or the
jailer's reply. But then Obi-Wan had turned back to Qui-Gon, and his eyes
were shining. He spoke, and this time Qui-Gon knew what Obi-Wan had said.
"Master...love you. I love you."
Qui-Gon knew then that it was so. Had always been so, and he smiled at
Obi-Wan, wanting to weep, not caring about the saber pointed at his chest or
the being that wielded it. Obi-Wan loved him.
And now he would be found, if Qui-Gon had to kill or die to find him.
The clone's Force-signature had been captured by Qui-Gon. It would take time
to find him, but he had no doubt that he would succeed. When the clone was
found, Obi-Wan would be with him, and possibly, Belial's Master. Could
Qui-Gon strike down the clone and his Master? Were the Sith as powerful as
legend
would have him believe? Was it embracing Darkness to strike it down?
A Jedi cannot allow evil to occur ...
Qui-Gon caught the faint Darkness again, and held on, suffering the
similarity to his padawan.
May the Force guide my steps, he thought.
He began to follow the trail, and disappeared into the teeming crowds.
Obi-Wan lay curled up on the narrow cot, huddled within his robe.
The ship was freezing cold. There was no blanket on the cot, and Belial had
not provided him with any additional clothing. He was used to the chill of
space, but he'd always been dressed in at least two tunics and his leggings
and robe, and his boots. He drew his knees up and tucked them between
his arms, still manacled at the wrists.
It would take less than a Standard day to reach Sullust, if his memory
served him
correctly. The ship was small, but its tanks seemed large enough to make the
journey without
refueling. No chance for escape before they reached their destination.
The Zabrakian, thought Obi-Wan. There was a chance there, no matter how
slim; Obi-Wan had seen the slight hesitation in the man's expression. He
hadn't seen him at all since they'd boarded, though; Obi-Wan would have to
be patient.
He shifted, and suddenly realized with some astonishment that his ribs no
longer hurt. Nor did his shoulder, nor did any other part of his body,
though hours before the pain had been considerable. Someone had healed him
as he lay unconscious. Belial, or the guard? The guard seemed to have some
measure of compassion; but Belial was perverse enough to heal him before
hurting him again.
He would not ask. Let the truth reveal itself.
The beams crossing the doorway disappeared and Belial stepped through, still
wearing his medic's disguise, though he'd removed the cap. His braid stood
out starkly against the dark fabric. He carried a tray with a cup and a bowl
on it. He turned, raised a hand, and the beams shot back into place.
"Obi-Wan." His voice was affable. "How are you feeling?"
Obi-Wan returned the clone's gaze flatly, choosing not to respond. Belial
was so unpredictable. Obi-Wan, in the interests of his own safety, strength,
and sanity, decided that silence was the best response to anything the clone
said.
Belial sauntered to the cot and sat on the edge. He patted Obi-Wan's thigh,
balancing the tray on his lap. A delicious odor drifted from the tray, and
Obi-Wan's stomach clenched tightly. How long had it been since he'd eaten?
"Hungry?"
Obi-Wan considered. If he made no response, Belial might very well starve
him.
"Yes."
Belial smiled. "Then eat."
Obi-Wan sat up and glared at the clone suspiciously. Was this a trick of
some kind? But Belial set the tray between them, and Obi-Wan looked down,
saw a thin, wonderful-smelling soup inside the bowl. Hesitantly he picked it
up, afraid that the clone would dash it from his hand.
Belial simply smiled at him.
Obi-Wan sipped at the soup. Hot and savory, it hit his throat and stomach
like a blessing. He consumed it cautiously, not wanting to get sick. He set
it down and took the cup and took a long draught of cold, sweet water.
Oh, Force, it was wonderful, and he felt some of his strength return.
"Poor padawan."
Obi-Wan looked at the clone, startled. There was an unexpected sadness in
his voice. He's provoking you, Obi-Wan thought to himself. But the clone's
face...it was reflective, his eyes focused on the opposite wall.
"How must it feel to be torn from the Order, from your home, from your
Master who loves you so very much?"
There was no mockery, and Obi-Wan stared at him. He's mad, he must be, I've
seen him go from rage to delight to lust in mere seconds. He took another
drink of water.
"I envy you the depth of your experience, Obi-Wan. Pain is as natural to me
as breathing. My Master taught me to embrace pain. It must be amazing to
feel its newness."
"Shall we trade places?" said Obi-Wan, a trifle bitterly.
Belial's mouth twisted in a grim smile. "You would never hurt me as I've
hurt you."
"No," replied Obi-Wan. "I would not."
"I'm going to hurt you again, Obi-Wan."
"I thought as much."
"How much do you think you can bear?"
"I shall bear what I must until I escape."
"Or until Qui-Gon comes for you."
Obi-Wan turned away from the clone. Belial set the depleted tray on the
floor and ran a hand down Obi-Wan's back. "You're so transparent, Padawan
Knight. You still think that he's going to save you."
Obi-Wan's voice was a low murmur. "He will come."
"I know that, Obi-Wan. I'm quite looking forward to it."
"Why...so that you can take his life?"
"Not necessarily."
Obi-Wan faced the clone again. His voice dripped scorn. "You think to turn
him? He is and will always be a Jedi, no matter what the Council says. He
will never turn."
"Do you know, he said the very same thing about you...how very amusing. In
any case, I haven't decided Master Qui-Gon's fate yet."
"Take care, Belial. You may find that he will decide your fate."
"Jedi...it is entirely possible that none of us may survive this. Have you
forgotten toward whom we travel?"
"Your Master. Is he aware of your treachery?"
"My intentions, you mean?" Belial shrugged. "Possibly. It matters little."
"I will never consent to become your apprentice, and if you die, you die in
vain."
"You wound me, Obi-Wan. But remember that I can always hurt you more."
Belial rose from the cot and faced him. "On your knees."
Obi-Wan glared at him. "No."
"Get on your knees, Obi-Wan, or when we land on Sullust, I'll kill ten
citizens at random."
Shaking with helpless anger, Obi-Wan got off the cot and knelt before
Belial, who began to unfasten his trousers.
"Now...we have unfinished business, Padawan. You're going to take me inside
your mouth, and you're going to pleasure me. If you fail to satisfy me, or
if you injure me even slightly, people will die, I promise you." He grinned.
"I assume you've done this before. I'll reciprocate, eventually." He placed
a hand on either side of Obi-Wan's head and guided him close to his penis.
"Open your mouth. Open it."
Obi-Wan shut his eyes as he felt the tip of Belial's penis pressing against
his firmly closed lips. I can't do this, he thought.
"Oh, but you can. Open." The clone's voice was silkily menacing.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth, and nearly gagged as Belial pushed himself in.
"Ah...that's good, Obi-Wan. So good."
Obi-Wan's bound hands had clenched into tight fists, his fingernails digging
into his palms. Belial had defeated him again. It was perform or suffer the
death of innocents. The clone's penis started to harden and swell inside
Obi-Wan's mouth, and he wanted to vomit. The soup began to rise, and he
forced it back down.
Belial remained perfectly still, his hands still grasping Obi-Wan's head by
the hair. He sighed.
"That's good...ohh, yes, padawan..."
Obi-Wan's chest hitched in a silent sob, and Belial gasped at the
constriction.
Qui-Gon, please. I can't take this anymore. I can't.
Belial's hips started to undulate slowly, and he groaned softly.
"There..."
Obi-Wan increased the pressure of his mouth and of his tongue, praying that
the clone would hurry.
Belial pumped into him with more urgency.
On and on he went, insatiable, and Obi-Wan sucked and licked and pulled,
wretched and alone, his dark twin fucking his mouth mercilessly. He was
horrified to feel his own penis beginning to stir. Aroused, against his
will? It couldn't be, and he fought against it, willing himself to calm and
failing. His mind and soul cried out for deliverance as his body did the
clone's bidding.
Belial was bucking against him now, and he came with a strangled cry, hot
fluid bursting into Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan pulled away and the clone was
on him, his hand gripping Obi-Wan's face, forcing his mouth closed.
"Swallow it, Obi-Wan, like the little whore you are."
Obi-Wan shook his head frantically. He wouldn't, he wouldn't...
"They'll die, Obi-Wan."
Oh, gods, how much more was he to endure for the sake of others?
He swallowed convulsively.
Belial shoved him away, and Obi-Wan crashed to the floor.
Belial re-fastened his trousers. "I said I'd reciprocate, and I will,
Obi-Wan, though not now. I think that you'd like me to, though, wouldn't
you?" He smiled archly at Obi-Wan, who scrubbed at his mouth with the hem of
his robe.
A wave of the hand, and the beams disappeared as the clone walked through
the doorway. Once again they slid into place.
Obi-Wan waited until the clone had disappeared. He crawled to the tray that
had been left behind and picked up the water cup. Took a draught, and rinsed
his mouth, bitter with the taste of the clone's semen.
He held the cup in his hands for a moment, then hurled it at the wall,
watching it shatter against the duristeel.
Qui-Gon had traced the signature for hours, and it had led him here.
He craned his neck upwards. The Galactic Senate complex. Massive and
sprawling, it was easy enough to hide within. He concentrated and felt the
whisper of Darkness again. He frowned. How had Belial hidden Obi-Wan from
sight? The hologram he'd seen had revealed little, but it was no Senate
chamber or apartment he was familiar with. It had appeared gloomy and chill,
unlike the Senate's usual frenetic activity.
Persons of all species hurried past the tall Jedi, intent and self-absorbed.
Qui-Gon quieted his mind and reached again.
There was a shimmering in the Force. It beckoned him in two directions...up
and down.
Qui-Gon considered. Would the clone have been so brazen as to hold his
apprentice in plain sight? Possibly...his eyes suddenly fastened upon a man,
secretive and tense, hurrying into one of the corridors that led to the
sublevels.
Of course.
Qui-Gon followed the man into the corridor.
The Sith Lord, Darth Sidious, sat swathed in shadow, contemplating the
perpetual hazy, orange glow of the Sullustan landscape.
A servant stood in the doorway, not moving. He had been standing there for
nearly half of an hour.
Let him wait. Lord Sidious' servants knew better than to press him.
The Dark Lord was serene. Belial would come before him very soon, and he
would bring the young Jedi.
And the Jedi Order would gain a new adversary.
Darth Sidious had never openly admitted to error. Not even to himself. Yet,
he felt a touch of...was it unease...?
No.
Annoyance.
The Dark Lord was patient. He had searched for nearly two years, seeking the
ideal candidate for his experiment, considering and rejecting hundreds of
Jedi Knights, each more pathetic than the last. A soft lot...absurd that
they were his nemeses. If not for their vast number, endlessly seeking and
replenishing, he would have exterminated them all at once.
And then, at a Senate reception...a banal affair, but so necessary...he'd
found him, through a powerful stirring in the Force.
A youth, sixteen or seventeen years old. Not at his full growth; he'd
appeared even slighter standing next to his towering Master. Breathtakingly
innocent, he'd remained close to his Master's side, even as the crowd
threatened to pull them apart. Lord Sidious drifted closer, anonymous,
innocuous.
The boy was lovely, and his beauty pleased the Dark Lord. But more than
that, he was strong, his Force-signature nearly overwhelming. He'd probed,
and had been amused to observe that the boy...Obi-Wan Kenobi... was
desperately in love with his Master. And...even more hilarious...the Master
was in love with his apprentice. And their bond was weak. They had shielded
themselves from each other.
Perfect. It was perfect. The Force had led him to this boy.
Lord Sidious disappeared and returned a short while later. He had focused on
the boy and called him.
/Obi-Wan.../
The boy had frowned, and turned back to his Master, who was chatting with a
senator from Alderaan.
Sidious was impressed.
/Obi-Wan...to me./
Obi-Wan turned hesitantly. Darth Sidious caught the faint alarm in the boy's
mind and had smothered it, drowning the boy's consciousness in toxic
reassurance.
/To me./
Obi-Wan had followed him to a room far from the noise and confusion of the
reception. He stood in the doorway, some part of him aware that he was not
there of his own will.
And Sidious saw his eyes opening wide, and felt his struggle, and for a
brief moment the boy had almost won.
/Mas-/
Sidious had taken hold of the Padawan apprentice's mental cry and had
crushed it, so that nothing remained but a tiny spark of defiance.
/Sleep./
/No.../
/Sleep./
And the boy had crumpled to the ground. Sidious lifted him and carried him
to a couch, and had taken samples...blood, hair, skin...enough to ensure a
perfect reproduction.
It had been so easy, and he had looked at the sleeping youth and had
wondered if perhaps he should reward himself. Obi-Wan was so vulnerable, his
head turned to one side, the braid, a hated symbol to the Dark Lord, yet
somehow incredibly erotic on this helpless young man, fallen across his
neck. Sidious let his hand roam over the youth's chest, his fingers slipping
inside the tunic and brushing against a nipple. He skimmed the fabric of
tunic and leggings and came to rest between Obi-Wan's legs.
No. No time for that. The boy's master was already growing concerned, and
the risk of discovery was too great. Reluctantly he ceased his exploration
and once more insinuated himself into the mind of the young Jedi.
/You will not remember./
He left without a backward glance.
I may not be able to avail myself of the pleasures of your mind and body,
Obi-Wan Kenobi. But there will be another...and you have my gratitude.
He had gone to Sullust, to the vats built in secret and at enormous expense,
and he had begun his work, watching the clone take shape, raw cells to
embryo to youth, the Sith Lord feeding the clone dark energy, projecting
knowledge; sciences, arts, history, the ancient saga of the Sith, tales of
the Jedi, always weaving the Darkness into the lessons. Rejoiced when the
clone responded, questions and confusion, and finally acceptance and
devotion, eager for freedom, and when the accelerated growth was nearly
complete, when the clone was close enough to Obi-Wan's age as made no
difference, the Sith Lord freed him.
Belial had emerged from the vat a perfect disciple. Beautiful and deadly,
and devoted in all ways to his Master and Maker. He had studied the
information gathered by Sidious' droid spies diligently, copying Obi-Wan's
movements, and voice, adding each gesture to his vocabulary until he was
nearly perfect. Sidious too had watched the stolen data tapes, pilfered from
the Jedi Temple, and had observed the progressing strength of the Padawan
apprentice.
A shame that you must die, Obi-Wan. But I have my consolation...your twin.
His dark angel, and Sidious had pleasured himself, had reveled in Belial's
tears of pain as he was raped repeatedly. Had taught the young man to absorb
staggering amounts of pain and suffering, had provided him with the most
skilled courtesans in the Republic and beyond, delectable food and wine
alternating with periods of starvation, luxurious rooms with soft beds and
filthy cells carved from stinking earth, with only nightcrawlers and
disease-ridden rodents for company. Belial had begged and pleaded and raged
and threatened to kill him, and Lord Sidious had shown him incomparable
pleasures again, and agony again. He'd driven him in tests of endurance,
both physical and mental. He'd jarred and frightened and pleased and hurt.
Shock upon shock until the lesson was learned, until pain and pleasure was
one and the same.
Strength.
And finally his creation, his malevolent beauty, was ready. The night before
Belial had departed for Coruscant, he had lain with his Master, willingly,
so willingly, and Sidious had tortured him before taking him...never the
kind of pain that scarred and maimed and disfigured, for marring Belial's
beauty was not something he was willing to do. But he'd used the neural whip
until Belial had been broken to screaming, and then had shown him great
tenderness.
There was allways a lesson to be learned.
Belial sprawled in bed, his thighs parted shamelessly, his head tilted back,
his hair flowing to the pillow. Sidious had taken a strand in his fingers.
"You'll have to cut this, my apprentice."
"It will pain me, Master. But not as much as my separation from you."
"How long will you watch?"
"Long enough to determine that which I need, Master."
"And then?"
"Obfuscate. Deceive. Destroy."
Sidious had nodded in approval.
But then...days had passed, and there was no communication. And Sidious had
sent himself out, had plucked the thoughts from Belial's mind.
His apprentice had become infatuated with the boy. And worse, with the boy's
Master. Lord Sidious had been enraged, and had almost gone to Coruscant to
take matters into his own hands. At the last moment, he had relented. Belial
would do what was necessary.
Lord Sidious had seen the shifting, chaotic tide of his creation's
thoughts, sands in a desert. It had caused him some concern.
Perhaps...perhaps the clone was unstable because the Force flowed so
strongly within him.
Certainly it was not because of the treatment he'd received at the hands of
his Master.
Belial was starting to fall apart, like an indifferently made doll. He
thought himself possessed of his own will.
If only he knew how transparent he was, how easy it was to read his
thoughts. Sidious had taught him well, but the young man had not enough
skill and experience to hide his innermost thoughts from his Master. He
sensed his defiance, his lust, his treachery. But he had not acted, even
when Belial made the decision to keep the young Jedi alive.
And slowly he realized that Belial was correct. Obi-Wan was valuable. Too
valuable to kill.
It was better, was it not, to take the Padawan as his apprentice. He was at
a perfect age...initiates were too young; they were too untrained to
suppress fear and anger. A Knight too heavily indoctrinated in the ways of
the Jedi...too far gone to be useful. Masters...not even worth
consideration.
But a Padawan apprentice...that zeal, that devotion to duty and the
Light...that could be easily exploited.
Yes.
Obi-Wan would be his apprentice. It would be so pleasurable to subject him
to the training necessary to embrace Darkness.
He would finally be able to taste the flesh of the young man he'd set eyes
on years before.
Belial was right.
And that was as close as he'd ever come to conceding a point.
He would create life again. Clones, a vast army of clones. But not
Force-adepts. They were too unpredictable, perhaps too strong, to trust.
Millions of drones, content only to do his bidding.
And with Obi-Wan at his side...
Belial. Lord Sidious felt a stab of rage. Belial, his perfect beauty, was
flawed, and he had not seen it in time. And now the clone had jeopardized
his plans, so perfectly laid, with his illusions of love. He had nearly
strangled Belial when he considered going back to the Temple for Qui-Gon.
You will pay for your defiance, my impetuous one.
How you will pay.
He turned his attention to the servant in the doorway.
"What is it?"
"Lord Belial has arrived."
"Have him bring Obi-Wan Kenobi before me. At once."
He turned back to the window, gazing at the noxious clouds of gas.
He smiled to himself.
Very soon now...
Sullust, located in the Sullust system between Yetoom and Ithor, is a
volcanic world, covered with thick clouds of gas. The surface of the planet
cannot support life, and so the inhabitants of this forbidding planet have
built vast underground cities in the network of caves under its surface. The
cities of Sullust are renowned as resorts, playgrounds of the idle rich. One
of these cities, Piringiisi, is especially notable for its hot springs and
caustic green mud possessed of therapeutic qualities.
Piringiisi is a beautiful city. Its structures are stone, carved so
exquisitely and intricately, that they appear as delicate lace. There are
tall spires of the peculiar pale-green volcanic glass particular to the
surface just above the city. Sweeping archways of the same glass line its
streets, one after another, giving the illusion of eternity, of endlessness.
To preserve the impression of light and air, though it is underground, the
entire city is lit by day by billions of powerful lightglobes, engineered to
give the appearance of sunlight.
The inhabitants of Piringiisi are dedicated solely to pleasure. Those who do
not indulge themselves are employed by those who do. At any time of day,
there are thousands of ways to amuse oneself, if one can pay the exorbitant
prices that pleasure can sometimes demand. The finest food, beautiful and
talented courtesans of all species, gambling, the adornment and preservation
of the body...none of these things are inexpensive
It is perhaps not surprising that there is more to the city than meets the
eye. Any place that focuses upon hedonism above all else is bound to be
corrupt in some fashion. Usually it comes of a widening class gap...the
servants and the served. But if the servants, who are in the main native
Sullustans, feel the gap, they rarely complain. Their needs are seen to by
the benefactor who holds the city in the palm of his hand. An invisible
benefactor who only rarely comes out of the outrageously beautiful stone
palace he inhabits. Few Sullustans have ever seen his face, but all speak of
him highly. He was instrumental, many years before, in the implementation of
the city's industries that catered to the wealthy and caused Piringiisi's
economic success. He provides for the Sullustans, makes them comfortable.
A comfortable populace is a docile populace. A docile populace never
questions benevolent despotism, which crushes free will through providence.
And the citizens of Piringiisi do not realize that the man who controls
their city, their industry, indeed, their very lives, is the Sith Lord,
Sidious. It is doubtful that even were they to be made aware of his
machinations...financial gain through flattery, persuasion and
trickery...self-aggrandizement in the stealthiest manner...that they would
even care. Their needs and wants are addressed. What more is required?
The stone palace on the outskirts of the city is much-admired, though few
have seen its interior, and those who have cannot be bribed to speak of it.
It is enormous, with one spire shooting up through the ceiling of the cave
that contains it. There is a single room at the top of this spire, in which
sits the Dark Lord himself, black-clad, cloaked and hooded, watching the
billowing, poisonous clouds of gas. He smiles to himself, certain of his
eventual success.
Belial pulled Obi-Wan through the rooms of the palace. Obi-Wan's senses,
dulled by the lightlessness of his prison and by hunger and pain, were
assaulted by a profusion of riotous color and luxury in each chamber.
Decadence upon decadence; gleaming halls hung with silk tapestries in deep
blues and reds and purples, tiled floors polished to a mirrorlike
perfection, deep soft couches piled high with cushions, small tables
scattered everywhere, some covered with bowls brimming with fruit. The air
was redolent with scent: flowers and food and the resinous substance that
fueled the torches hung every few meters in rounded niches in the walls.
Underlying the fragrant air was the slightly sulfurous odor that never
disappeared, the smell of the planet's surface, its ash and lava, its clouds
of gas.
They came to a door guarded by two Iktotchi who blinked at their approach,
but at a gesture from the clone, they bowed and granted them passage.
It was a sitting room of sorts, and already occupied by several persons,
painted and perfumed and expensively clothed. Some were dressed in the
briefest of
garments, scraps of silk held together by bits of metal. Courtiers, or
whores, or both, they all gaped at Belial and Obi-Wan as the clone dragged
the Jedi to a low couch and pushed him onto it.
"...My Lord?"
A woman slowly advanced, looking confusedly at the two men.
"Dreinn," Belial swept her into his arms and kissed her. She let out a
little squeak of pleasure and clung to him. The others began to cluster
round, murmuring, looking from Belial to Obi-Wan. Belial released the woman
and dropped to the floor beside Obi-Wan, tugging affectionately at his
unplaited braid.
"My friends," Belial said, "this is Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi."
A dozen pairs of eyes gazed at Obi-Wan with renewed interest.
"A Jedi Knight, my Lord?"
"Indeed he is. A rare prize, and a beautiful one...wouldn't you say?"
A slender young man with long auburn hair and full, pouting lips knelt and
reached out and grazed Obi-Wan's mouth with gilded fingertips. Obi-Wan
remained still, staring into the boy's bright green eyes.
He was a mere child, surely no more than fifteen or sixteen, and he moved
with a wanton sensuality that filled Obi-Wan with a compound of pity and
loathing
The boy turned to Belial. "You look so much alike, my Lord," he breathed.
"Is he your brother?"
Belial laughed. "No, Aran, my sweet one...no, not my brother. We
are...related, however." He turned Obi-Wan's face to his and kissed him on
the mouth. Obi-Wan shoved him away, knocking him to the floor, and the
onlookers stepped back a pace.
"A fighter, my Lord."
Belial rose. "That he is. Hold him."
Several of the men and women eagerly complied, seizing Obi-Wan's arms and
yanking them above his head. Obi-Wan struggled furiously as hands grasped
him and held him down. Belial pulled Obi-Wan's robe open, exposing his naked
body. There were soft noises of approval, and Obi-Wan averted his eyes from
their hungry gazes.
"He is beautiful, my Lord. And strong." A woman's voice. "Is that why he
wears the electrocollar?"
"It's not an electrocollar, my pet. It disrupts a Jedi's powers."
"It's true, then, what they say of the Jedi." The boy again, and his tone
was reverent. Obi-Wan turned his head and looked closely at the boy, whose
kohl-rimmed eyes were fixed upon him.
"What is it that they say of the Jedi?" said Obi-Wan.
"That you can run at incredible speeds...that you can call objects to your
hand with the power of your minds...that you can crush a man's throat
without touching him."
Obi-Wan's heart sank. This was a Republic world. Was this the reputation of
the Jedi, as tricksters, or magicians? Was that all they knew of the Order?
He fought a wave of despair again and forced himself to calm, ceasing his
struggles against those who held him down.
"Yes, a Jedi Knight can do all those things. We use the Force to guide us
and aid us. But all that we do is focused upon the Light. We are sworn to
serve and to protect those who cannot protect themselves. We seek to stop
those who would inflict suffering, or ignorance, or tyranny upon others." He
looked at Belial, who smiled at him tauntingly.
"Aran," he said, "I am a prisoner here. Belial has abducted me from my home
for his own evil purposes. And the one he serves-" and Belial's hand came
down upon his mouth, and several onlookers were pushed away roughly.
"Get out," hissed Belial to the bewildered men and women.
Obi-Wan bit Belial's hand. Belial swore and slammed his fist into Obi-Wan's
face. Obi-Wan fell from the couch, holding his bleeding nose. It hurt,
though not badly. He smiled up at the clone, who glared at him and then
wheeled upon the assemblage that had huddled together like frightened birds,
alarmed at the conflict.
"I said GET OUT!" Belial screamed at them. They scattered, nearly tripping
over one another in their haste to disappear. The door closed, and Belial
and Obi-Wan were left alone.
Belial fell to his knees and pushed the Jedi to the floor, straddling him
and holding his wrists pinioned above his head with one hand. With his other
hand he grabbed Obi-Wan's hair, forcing his head back. Obi-Wan twisted under
him, trying to kick him in the back, but Belial simply slid down until he
lay full-length atop Obi-Wan's squirming body, effectively pinning him to
the floor.
"That's the second time you've bitten me, Obi-Wan. I'll torture Aran to
death if you make another move against me, I swear it."
Obi-Wan froze. "You-"
"Were you trying to enlist his aid, Obi-Wan? That was cowardly. Whatever
happened to Jedi self-reliance?"
"I was not trying to enlist his aid," grated Obi-Wan. "They don't know what
you are, or who you are."
"And what am I?"
"Clone. Sith. Evil."
"Obi-Wan...you will not see. I am as human as you are. You refuse to believe
it, don't you? Don't deny it. You persist in seeing me as...what..as a
droid? A cyborg? I may have been decanted, not born, but I am fully human,
Obi-Wan. Your narrow vision can't accept that you and I are so close, so
similar in so many ways. You fight me because it's easier to say that you
were forced, isn't it? Easier than accepting the truth of what I am and the
truth of what you will be."
"You prey on the minds and souls of others. Those people...you manipulate
them, and they aren't even aware of it."
"Forget them, Obi-Wan. They're fools, every last one of them. Ignorant,
willing bodies, too stupid to realize that they're not in possession of
their own will."
"You deny them what is rightfully theirs."
"They exist to serve. Like the Jedi," said Belial, mocking him.
"You are not human."
"I am. You know that I am. And you fear that, you fear that you will become
just...like...me," the clone said. "And you will. But when you do, there
will be no further need for fear...you will embrace Darkness willingly."
"I'll die first."
There was a knock at the door. Belial rose and strode to it, flinging it
open widely.
"I thought I said-"
The man in the doorway fell to his knees. "I beg your pardon, my Lord. But
Lord Sidious commands you to attend him in the tower room, and to bring
Obi-Wan Kenobi before him."
Belial turned and walked back to Obi-Wan, who had sat up and pulled his robe
around himself.
"Do you hear that, Obi-Wan? He summons us."
Obi-Wan got to his feet. Belial raised an eyebrow.
Obi-Wan padded forward on bare feet until he stood directly in front of the
clone.
"Let's not keep him waiting, then."
Thirty-eight levels down, and Qui-Gon was at last in unfamiliar territory.
Qui-Gon had only been in the sublevels on a few occasions, none of them
particularly pleasant, and from all appearances they hadn't changed much.
They were crowded, dirty, and rank, acrid clouds of steam rising from wide
metal grates, massive structures slumped together, debris crowding the
streets. There was never any sunlight or night sky in the sublevels, as most
buildings, especially in the Senate district, were at least half a kilometer
in height, and they were so closely grouped together that they blocked any
view of the sky.
But this far...he'd never been this far down, nor had anyone else that he'd
ever known. Even as a padawan, in his thrill-seeking, he'd never been this
far. Once, when he was sixteen, he and Mace had gone in search of a bar that
was rumored not to have seen the sun in ninety thousand years. They'd never
found it, growing bored by the time they'd reached the thirtieth sublevel.
There was nothing but wreckage, trash, hawk-bats, and shadow barnacles.
Certainly nothing of interest.
Qui-Gon pulled his cloak more closely around him against the dank chill. He
sidestepped the wreckage of an ancient speeder. His eyes picked out
creatures scuttling away from him in the dark. Qui-Gon felt a brief flare of
compassion for the fearful beings that shied away from him, beings compelled
to live a subhuman existence, living-but not thriving-on foraged
food...duracrete slugs and lichens, no doubt, making shelters in the
burned-out husks of damaged starships and other refuse, their lives focused
on bare survival.
He tightened his grip on his saber. He was a compassionate man, but not
incautious.
Belial's Force-signature was stronger now. Qui-Gon had been correct in
taking the downward path.
He increased his pace, almost seeing Belial's trail now. He hurried to a
stairwell, an old transport-tunnel entrance. Down what seemed like a
thousand stairs and it was almost completely black now. Qui-Gon powered his
saber, holding it in front of him as a torch as he gingerly negotiated a
path through the blackness.
He smiled with a touch of irony. He'd always regarded his lightsaber as
intensely bright, its green glow illuminating everything around it. Now he
realized that its radiance spanned less than two meters. Nevertheless, it
was enough to keep him from tripping over layers of metal track and
discarded slabs and chunks of duracrete without expending extra energy using
the Force to assist his travels. This tunnel could be kilometers long, and
Belial's Force-signature, though stronger, could take him hours to pinpoint.
His steps echoed in the silence, sounding as though someone or something was
walking behind him, trailing him. Once or twice he spun around, saber held
aloft, but there was nothing behind him. Nothing at all.
He continued his journey through the darkness.
The tunnel was long, perhaps two kilometers already, and the going was slow.
Qui-Gon's foot touched something solid, yet yielding. There was a screech
and he leapt back as the rat...Force, it was big...scurried away from him.
He let his saber dip and was sickened to see that the rat had apparently
been feasting on what was once a human being.
He stepped carefully over the pathetic corpse and began to hurry once again,
almost running, his feet striking other objects, and this time he did not
slow or stop to investigate. He felt an almost desperate sense of urgency.
Obi-Wan in the midst of all this...a fierce protective anger swamped him,
and he almost ran into the tunnel's dead end.
He stopped, breathing hard, frustrated. He switched off his saber and slid
to the cold damp ground. Damnation, he thought angrily. I can find my way
through Dagobah without a chart, why can't I find my own apprentice on
Coruscant?
"When does a Jedi act, Padawan?"
Qui-Gon looked up, startled.
"Master?"
He'd heard Yoda's voice.
He swore he'd heard it, heard the old question that had been drilled into
him again and again, unless his mind was playing a joke on him. It wouldn't
be unexpected, he thought. I've seen and heard enough to make me think that
I'm going mad already.
He had heard it, though. Tentatively he spoke.
"Master Yoda?"
Nothing. He dared not reach out through the old bond. The stern gaze of his
former master was still too freshly etched into his memory.
But...
When does a Jedi act?
The whispered answer rose automatically to his lips.
"A Jedi acts when calm and at peace with the Force. To act in anger is to
risk temptation to the Dark Side."
That answer, that most elementary of principles, one of the first tenets of
the Code...forgotten by him.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no death; there is the Force.
Oh...
Oh, yes...yes.
He stood slowly, and it was as though the tunnel had suddenly been
illuminated in clean white light.
How long had he defied the Code, nurturing his guilt-stricken love for his
apprentice? How long had he lived in shadow, not seeing what was in front of
him, regarding the Code as an obstacle to be overcome, rather than as a
guide and friend? There was no passion, no emotion...not as Qui-Gon had
chosen to see it, no...but love could be encompassed within the Code, could
it not? Of course, yes, and passion and emotion were elements of love, to be
sure, but that was not the passion and emotion against which the Code
warned. Qui-Gon laughed suddenly at the revelation and his own stupidity and
stubbornness. He wanted to go to Yoda and fall at the tiny Jedi Master's
feet and beg forgiveness. How many times had Yoda counseled him on points of
view, and how many times had Qui-Gon simply ignored him?
He knelt and meditated.
All that I am is encompassed within the Force, he thought. Every moment
comes to me with myriad possibility, only to pass on and into eternity,
there to forever remain what I have made of it.
He rose again and turned to the dead end.
There, and he hadn't seen it before. A door, narrow, nearly invisible.
Qui-Gon pushed it and it opened easily.
/Thank you, Master./
He ran swiftly through the corridor, which was feebly illuminated by dim
suspensor globes. It was dazzling compared to the previous darkness, though,
he thought. The clone's signature was so strong now...or was it that Qui-Gon
was more receptive to the Force...? No matter, and he halted in front of a
door. Belial's signature was especially powerful now, and he looked down. No
handle. He drew and ignited his saber, and jammed it into the metal door,
which began to glow orange, then white around the blade. Dripping metal
splashed to the floor as Qui-Gon drew the blade up, cutting a passageway
through the door. He kicked the center of the glowing rectangle and it
crashed to the floor as Qui-Gon sprang inside, saber held in an attack
position.
The chamber was empty.
There was some rubbish in the center of the room, and there were units on
the wall that most likely held monitors at one time, but that was all.
Qui-Gon advanced into the next room.
It was dim, and there was a single chair bolted to the floor in the center
of the room. There were overturned racks everywhere. Bits of carbon rope
littered the floor. Qui-Gon rested a hand on the back of the chair.
Obi-Wan...
He snatched his hand away as though he'd been scalded, and touched the chair
again.
Yes. Unmistakable, they'd both been here, and he raced into the other rooms,
finding nothing, but that faint trace of his padawan lingered. He went into
the first room, searched the pile of scrap on the floor. Nothing. No
evidence, no clues of any kind. He took a deep breath and concentrated. The
Force had led him this far, and surely it-
/MASTER!/
"Obi-Wan!" He fell to his knees, shaken to the core at the cry, the first
true mental communication from Obi-Wan in years, and he reeled at its
impact. It was plaintive, desperate, longing, yet intermingled with another
emotion...fear.
Not for himself.
For Qui-Gon.
/Obi-Wan!/
/Master...please...don't/
And that was all.
Time enough for Qui-Gon to fasten upon the cry.
He closed his eyes, settling into the deepest of trances, focusing inward,
shedding all but the moment, the quietude of pure attention.
And he saw it, the place where Obi-Wan was held.
His eyes opened.
A ship. He needed a ship to take him to Sullust.
Depa Billaba was sitting in Yoda's chair, staring out the window. She didn't
look up as Mace Windu came in.
He sat in his customary seat, next to her.
"I've often wondered what he sees from here."
"The same thing we all see...from a different angle."
She turned and looked at him. "Do you think so?"
Mace sighed. "Depa, when something troubles you, you become elliptical."
She offered him a slanted smile. "That's because my Master taught me to be
elliptical."
"I?" Mace snorted. "I think not."
She shrugged, turned back to the window.
Several moments passed in silence. Mace waited patiently.
Finally she spoke.
"I sense Darkness."
Mace waited a few moments before replying.
"I sense it also, Padawan." The honorific slipped out before he could stop
himself, and she smiled at him again. The smile quickly faded though,
replaced by an expression of confusion and frustration.
"What happened to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master? Why can't I remember what happened
to him? And why do I sense that he has something to do with the Darkness I
feel? Or is it Qui-Gon...and what he's done..." She trailed off helplessly,
staring out the window again.
"Ever since I attained my seat on the Council, there hasn't been a time when
this Chamber has failed to fill my soul with peace," she said. "I have
always believed that the Council has acted with the greater good in mind.
And now...now I sit here in this room, and I hear distant cries in the
Force, and I know something is wrong..."
Mace put a gentle hand on her arm. "Depa...Qui-Gon..."
"What of him?" Her voice was cold.
"I restored his lightsaber to him."
She turned and gaped at him. "You...you gave it back? Master...how could
you! After what he did..."
"You said it yourself." Mace's voice was low, urgent. "Something is wrong.
You can feel it. I feel it. Why are you here, Depa? What drew you to this
chamber? Why now?"
"I don't know," she confessed. She turned accusing eyes on him. "But you're
evading me. Why did you give it back to him? He's no longer a Jedi. What if
he tries to...to hurt Obi-Wan again? Can you live with that, Master, that
knowledge?"
"We did not imprison him," returned Mace sharply. He stared at her for a
moment, and his gaze softened.
"Depa...the young man you escorted to the healing dome...that was not
Padawan Kenobi."
"What?" Her irritation was mounting. "What are you talking about?"
"A clone. A replicant."
Depa stood. Her face was pale with anger. "And who told you this...Qui-Gon?"
Mace rose, towering over her. He grasped her arms. "Tell me...am I lying?
Was Qui-Gon lying to me?" He opened himself up to her, allowing her to sift
through his thoughts, his memories. She sought an answer in his soul, and
stared at him in shock.
"Not a lie," she whispered.
Mace nodded, not taking his eyes off hers.
"Where is Padawan Kenobi?"
"Qui-Gon believes him to be a prisoner of the clone. He has gone in search
of both of them."
"Then the holo...but there is still the question of rape, whether or not the
victim was Qui-Gon's apprentice."
"I think," Mace replied, "that we judged hastily."
"The evidence..."
"Seemed clearcut, yes. But did we give Qui-Gon a chance to defend himself?"
"But..."
"What was Qui-Gon's question to the Council?"
Depa frowned. She answered slowly. "He wanted to know where we'd obtained
the holodisc."
"And did we answer him?"
"No, he..." she stopped.
She looked at him, her eyes wide with comprehension.
"Oh, Force," she whispered.
Mace walked to the window and stared out at the enormous expanse of city
below them.
"How was it done, do you think?"
"I don't know," he said. "It may have been manipulated...or it may have been
a portion of a greater whole...I'll study the disc at length."
"I still can't remember what happened," she said quietly.
Mace turned to her. "May I help you, Master Billaba?"
She nodded. The made their way to the center of the chamber and knelt facing
one another on the stone floor. They stilled their minds and quieted their
souls, disentangling themselves from wants and cares, and reached out to
each other through the Force, their old training bond flaring to brilliant
life again, and now it was Mace who probed, who sorted through the recent
past, through the scene in Council, through her anger at Qui-Gon. Through
her memory, he followed her and the young man through the halls of the
Temple, to the healing dome. He watched as she smoothed the bedclothes, and
saw the man...the clone...smile at her and cloud her mind. She was still
angry at Qui-Gon, and persuasion had been a simple task for the clone, who
was strong in the Force, as strong as Obi-Wan, but there was a current of
Darkness there, skillfully concealed, but now, as Mace searched, he saw it,
more and more clearly, and his heart was filled with dread.
In our midst, he thought. And Padawan Kenobi...
When it was over, Depa looked up. She was flushed. "I did not see it,
Master," she whispered.
"Nor did any of us. You are blameless...as is Qui-Gon. I am certain of it."
She flushed again. "Should someone not be dispatched to assist him?"
"I have faith in Qui-Gon's abilities." Even though I intimated to him that I
did not, thought Mace, and it was his turn to flush. "He will find his
apprentice."
"The clone," said Depa suddenly. "Obi-Wan...how were his cells obtained?"
"I don't know," said Mace. "The theft of his life...a serious offense. I
wonder who would be so disdainful of galactic law."
They stared at each other wordlessly.
The Chamber door opened, and Yoda came in, leaning on his stick, coming to a
halt in front of the still kneeling Jedi Masters. His eyes were slitted and
he regarded the kneeling pair keenly.
"Sense it also, do you?"
"Yes, Master," replied Mace. "Master...we must-"
"Wait." Yoda held up one hand. "Wait for the others."
"Will they come?"
Yoda said nothing, merely turned to the doors.
Adi Gallia strode in. She seemed unsurprised to see the others. She took her
seat, a wary look upon her elegant features.
One by one, the rest of the Council came. Yaddle. Even Piell. Plo Koon. Eeth
Koth. Yarael Poof. They all sat in their chairs, waiting. Yoda walked to his
chair and sat. Mace and Depa rose and took their seats as well.
At last they were all there, grave and silent.
Mace took a deep breath and addressed the assemblage.
"Masters...you all feel the disturbance in the Force. I believe I know the
source of the disturbance."
He stopped. Qui-Gon, he thought. I hope that you can forgive us for what we
have done to you.
"Masters...I ask you to recall the events surrounding the summons of Master
Qui-Gon Jinn..."
The lift opened onto a small antechamber. Two red-robed guards with force
pikes stood in front of a pair of bronze doors.
Belial's grip tightened on Obi-Wan's arm.
"Lord Sidious has summoned us."
"You are to go in first," said one guard. He pointed at Obi-Wan. "He is to
wait."
Belial pushed Obi-Wan to his knees.
"Wait here, Obi-Wan."
The doors opened, and he walked into the Dark Lord's retreat.
As the doors closed, Obi-Wan struggled to rise to his feet, but one of the
guards jabbed him dispassionately with the force pike. The weapon's powerful
stun charge sent Obi-Wan crashing to his knees. He forced himself not to cry
out. The guards stood silently, looking down at him.
Patience, Obi-Wan told himself. Are you so anxious to look into his face?
He waited.
Belial made his way to the throne...for it could be called little else...of
the Dark Lord. He dropped to his knees and looked at the floor.
"Master."
"Apprentice."
A pale hand reached out and cupped the clone's chin, tilting his head up.
Belial looked into the face of his Master and smiled beatifically at him.
"I have missed your presence, my student."
"As I have yours, Master."
"Have you?" The voice was mild, and for a moment Belial felt the cold clutch
of fear in his heart. He knew, he knew everything, and his anger would be
enormous. There would be pain again.
"Master..." He stopped, feeling something like a needle of ice being dragged
through his body, agonizingly cold. It was a familiar sensation, and he
waited as it was replaced by almost unbearable pleasure, and Lord Sidious
pushed his hood back, revealing the face of an ordinary man, with ordinary
features.
Belial was swept into the Dark Lord's arms, and they kissed hungrily,
greedily, embracing each other tightly.
"Oh, my apprentice...what have you done to me? I trusted you, my love, and
you have betrayed me."
"Master...master..." Belial was weeping. "Forgive me."
"You are not ready for the burden of being a Master, Belial. You should have
realized this."
Belial kissed him again, his tears wetting Sidious' face.
Lying tears, thought Sidious. But I taught you thus.
"I am prepared to forgive, my apprentice. I am prepared to be generous."
"Thank you, my Master."
"You must perform two tasks for me, my love."
"Anything, Master."
"You will aid me in turning the young Jedi. You have an intimate knowledge
of the tools necessary for this task."
"Yes, Master. And the second task?"
"The boy's master is coming. I sense his impending presence. You will kill
him. You will kill him in front of the boy. And it will be the slowest, most
painful death that you can devise."
Belial was silent.
"I feel your hesitation, apprentice mine. Why is that?"
"Master...I had thought-"
"You had thought to turn him. Yes?"
"Yes, Master."
Belial's eyes widened as he felt a tightness at his throat.
"And what made you think that you could accomplish such a feat?" inquired
Sidious, his voice silky.
"I...I felt...his conflict...darkness..."
The Dark Lord's hand shot out and seized Belial's braid, drawing the clone,
who was struggling frantically for breath, forward.
"Conflict? Conflict?" spat the Sith lord. "If such a thing ever existed in
Qui-Gon Jinn's mind, it is gone now. Do you remember nothing of my
teachings? A Jedi Master is to be destroyed...not turned. They are too close
to the Light, my beautiful apprentice." The Sith's free hand found Belial's
cock and started to fondle it.
"What are your true feelings for Master Jinn? The conflict is within you,
perhaps. You delude yourself, my beauty. Qui-Gon Jinn's feelings are for his
Padawan apprentice, not for you. You must accept this."
He continued his assault, rough and expert.
"Why, my student, did you allow your identity to be revealed to Qui-Gon
Jinn? Why, when all of our plans were so carefully laid? The source of the
sabotage upon the Jedi Temple was supposed to be Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now, Jinn
knows. And he may inform the Council." Sidious cocked his head delicately as
Belial struggled to speak.
"Oh, I know, Belial. He is in disgrace. Another foolishness of yours. You
were to have kept contact with the boy's master to an absolute minimum. But
no..." he sighed. "You allowed your desire to take precedence over your
mission. And you underestimated him, and in doing so, you have brought
suffering upon yourself.
"You thought to defeat me. You thought to make Kenobi your apprentice. You
have caused me no end of trouble with your stupidity. I have had to recall
our
forces on Yrrna because of you. Tell
me why I should not simply kill you, here...now."
Belial thrashed helplessly at the dual sensation of oxygen deprivation and
erotic stimulation.
"There are no answers, are there, my love? You are damaged. But you are
still mine. And you will do my bidding. You will obey me in all things. And
you will suffer penance until I am certain that your loyalty is restored."
He released Belial's throat and his cock. The sudden rush of air caused an
orgasm unlike any Belial had felt before. He crashed to the floor, sated,
his breath coming in harsh, tearing gasps.
The Dark Lord pulled the hood up again, shadowing his face.
"Arise, my love. Bring Kenobi before me now. We will begin his instruction."
Qui-Gon hunched over the controls of the small freighter, pushing it as
fast as he dared.
Seven or eight more hours to Sullust.
Oh, Obi-Wan, he thought. I can only imagine what they've forced you to
endure. Please, love, a few more hours...trust in your strength, trust in
the Force.
He began a litany.
Panic has no place in the mind of a Jedi...
....all danger passes....one need only be prepared...
Obi-Wan looked up as the doors opened and Belial stepped out, breathing
hard, his face scarlet.
Belial hauled him to his feet by his manacled wrists and yanked him through
the doors.
Obi-Wan quickly took in the details of the room. It was massive, cavernous,
hewn from smooth black stone. There was a huge window at the far end of the
chamber. Obi-Wan could see the strange reddish clouds of the atmosphere, and
through the haze he saw the glow of lava oozing from the slowly churning
interior of a nearby volcano.
Against the window was a figure seated in a chair. Any figure would have
seemed insignificant against the window and the awesome landscape below.
Except for this one.
The figure did not move, but a voice rang out.
"Welcome, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Obi-Wan gazed intently on the black-robed figure in the chair. He was
hooded, and the folds of the hood hid his face almost entirely.
Belial released him and stood back. But for that one chair, the room was
entirely empty. Those who came before the Dark Lord in this chamber were not
encouraged to linger.
Obi-Wan remained where he was. The stone floor was cold and smooth against
his bare feet.
"Are you afraid, young Jedi?"
"No." Obi-Wan's voice was clear and strong. No, I am not afraid of you. You
can hurt me, break my body, even kill me, but I do not fear you. I will not
fear you.
Darth Sidious stirred. "No. Perhaps not. You were performing the Fourth
Litany for serenity. Astounding, is it not, the power of faith in words? You
repeat a litany, and you believe it. You take the vow of devotion to the
Jedi Order, and you believe. Words, young Jedi, do not bruise or bleed. But
you put your faith in them, and in the Force that you cannot command. You
repeat the litanies, and the fear is gone..."
The Dark Lord stopped.
"You lie, young Kenobi. You do feel fear. But not for yourself...no. For
your Master, whom you love above all else...still. How touching.
"He is coming for you, Jedi. He disregards his own safety for your sake. My
apprentice," Sidious said, raising his voice slightly, "what are your plans
for Qui-Gon Jinn?"
"Master," replied the clone, his voice oddly hoarse, "Qui-Gon Jinn will
suffer the slowest and most painful death that I can devise."
"No," whispered Obi-Wan, taking a step forward. Sidious raised his hand, and
the collar around Obi-Wan's neck unlatched and clattered to the floor.
Oh, sweet gods above, he felt it, he felt the Force again, and it washed
over him, swirled around him, enveloped him in strength and blinding energy
and he was nearly overcome with joy. Unhesitatingly he sent a call to
Qui-Gon with all his might.
/MASTER!/
He felt Qui-Gon at the other end of the bond. It was not broken! Not gone!
Fragile, yes, damaged, perhaps, but still there, that connection, and he'd
been blind for years, not realizing how much he'd missed it, missed the
reassuring, loving presence of his master, and if he never saw Qui-Gon
again, then this moment of contact in the midst of servants of Darkness
would be his most cherished memory. He would hold it close to himself, no
matter the span of his life--
/Obi-Wan!/
He had to warn him, had to keep him away from this place.
/Master...please...don't/
And suddenly there were smothering walls of Darkness surrounding him,
stifling his call, cutting him off from the Force once again. He fought the
terror that arose and won, facing the Sith Lord serenely. There had been
time enough, he thought. Qui-Gon had heard enough.
Sidious laughed.
Obi-Wan stared at him unflinchingly.
"You've done well, young Kenobi."
"He will not come."
"On the contrary, Jedi. You have all but charted his course for him."
"What?" Obi-Wan's voice was small.
"Master Jinn was not aware that you were on Sullust, Obi-Wan. Your call has
enabled him to find you. And you can't think that he would abandon his own
beloved Padawan Apprentice to the Dark...you have saved us the trouble of
finding him ourselves. We thank you."
Belial walked past him and slid a hand down his arm. Obi-Wan, frozen with
shock and horror, did not respond. Belial stopped at the throne and slid to
the floor, draping his upper body over his master's legs. He smiled at
Obi-Wan.
What have I done...oh, Force help me, what have I done?
The walls of Force still imprisoned him, choking, suffocating. He wanted to
drop to the floor, to give in to despair once and for all.
/Master...forgive me/
Sidious laughed again, and this time Belial joined him, and their laughter
echoed throughout the chamber.
"Fear, young Jedi, is a powerful ally to the Dark Side. You have taken your
first step towards the Darkness. Tell me, how does that feel?"
Obi-Wan's vision blurred. A tear ran down his cheek.
Belial and Sidious exchanged a glance. Belial stood and walked to Obi-Wan
again. He pulled him closer to the Sith Lord's throne, and forced him to his
knees. The Dark Lord gazed at him, and Obi-Wan could not see his face, could
not focus. Sidious' hand, cold and white, grazed Obi-Wan's cheek, tracing
the path of the tear.
He turned to Belial. "Leave us."
Belial bowed and exited the chamber.
Obi-Wan was alone with the Sith Lord.
Kill him! his mind screamed. He will kill Qui-Gon, and if you don't turn,
he'll kill you too.
"By all means, Jedi. I am unarmed. You are young and strong...kill me."
He tried to lift his hands, but found it impossible. He could not move at
all, and a tightness enveloped his entire body, crushing the air out of him.
That cold hand remained on his cheek, caressing, now toying with the
loosened braid, now sliding inside his robe, chilling his flesh.
"I made my creation in your image, Obi-Wan Kenobi, because you are strong in
the Force. Years ago I came and took from you what was necessary to
duplicate your strength...and beauty. And he is strong, my Belial, and he is
as beautiful as you are. But he's not...perfect, Obi-Wan. He is not
innocent. He is not pure of heart. He is damaged in some way. Something went
wrong...something in the replication process. I must begin again. And I
shall begin with you. Belial will kill Qui-Gon, and you will have your
revenge. He hurt you, did he not? Yes...he did, and you will make him suffer
for it. I feel the hate rising in you, Kenobi. Let it guide you."
"No."
Obi-Wan shook with the effort it took to spit that single syllable out.
The constriction eased slightly, and Obi-Wan gasped, remaining upright
through sheer will.
The Sith Lord stood.
"Jedi." His voice was a snarl. "You will suffer unimaginable pain if you
resist me. And if you continue to resist me...you will die."
Obi-Wan strained to focus on the Dark Lord's face. Again it was impossible;
it was as though the Sith lord was making himself dim...as Belial once had.
A tool of the Dark side.
Tools and tricks, and evil, hate and rage and lust for power, and Obi-Wan
went inside himself, focused upon that fleeting connection with Qui-Gon.
There it was, and he envisioned the bond as he'd been taught, the image
Qui-Gon had given him when he was thirteen.
"The bond is a bridge, Padawan. It joins Master and Apprentice through the
Force. Through it we are connected, and every day it is strengthened by our
dedication to the Order and to the Light. It grows as we grow, and we are
rooted and grounded in it. It is nearer than the breath in our bodies,
closer than our flesh. Trust in the Force always to strengthen the bond, for
it will never abandon you."
And it did not, thought Obi-Wan. I am not abandoned.
There is no death; there is the Force.
I am not afraid.
Darth Sidious loomed over him.
"You will be, Jedi. You will be."
Blackness.
Pain.
He stirred.
Fully awake now, and he could not see at all. He took in what information he
could.
He hung from a primitive set of chains. His toes brushed against the floor
but
he could not support himself. His shoulders and wrists were on fire.
They'd taken his robe from him. He was cold, and yet there was a heat in the
room, a heat and a stench...sulfurous, nauseating. He lifted his head.
He took a deep breath, suppressing a gasp. Oh, it hurt, and his hands were
painfully swollen. He flexed his fingers, trying to encourage circulation.
How did I get here...I can't remember...
There was a noise...a scraping, bootsoles against stone.
"Obi-Wan."
He froze.
"Master?"
"Yes."
He nearly wept with relief. Oh, thank the Force...he twisted in the chains,
straining to see Qui-Gon in the darkness.
"Master, hurry, they'll be back, please, my hands-" he babbled, and a hand
brushed the inside of his upper arm.
"Master, please," Strained urgency in his voice now. /Master, hurry!/
There was a snap, and a sudden flickering light as a wall-torch was lit.
Qui-Gon stood in front of him, and Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes stinging, and
Qui-Gon spoke.
"My apprentice." There was bitter scorn and contempt in that voice, and he
shrank from it.
"Master...?"
"How easily you have succumbed to Darkness, my apprentice. You are unworthy
of the rank of Jedi padawan."
"No, Master...I haven't..." His face was stricken.
"You have. Crawling after me for years like a beaten cur, slavering at my
heels." Qui-Gon stepped in front of him, and there was an expression on his
face that made Obi-Wan want to die. It was hatred and disgust, and he'd
never seen it on Qui-Gon's face and now it was directed at him.
"Please, Master...I love you."
"I know that, Padawan," sneered Qui-Gon. "You think I haven't noticed after
all these years, those looks you give me, like a bitch in heat? All these
years, Obi-Wan, and at your first encounter with Darkness, you wilt and
submit...you have disappointed me beyond all reckoning."
"No."
"Yes, yes, yes, Obi-Wan. You are no longer a Jedi. And neither am I. And why
is that, little bitch-whelp?" he said, grabbing Obi-Wan by the hair and
pulling his head back, forcing Obi-Wan to meet his eyes, like flint, like
steel.
"Belial-"
"No," whispered Qui-Gon. "Even in Darkness you shirk responsibility. Had you
been a true Jedi, Belial would have never set foot on Coruscant. To think of
the years wasted on you, and you are the one responsible for my expulsion."
The fingers tightened in his hair, and he stared into his beloved master's
face.
"Qui-Gon?"
A sharp slap against his cheek, and his head snapped back.
"You dare address me so?" A hand slid down and grasped his hip.
"Well...since we are no longer Jedi, Obi-Wan, I suppose I can allow
it..." The hand began to move, fondling, kneading, nails digging into his
ass, sharp and hurtful. Qui-Gon's head lowered to the sensitive skin of
Obi-Wan's armpit. Obi-Wan gasped as a strong tongue probed deeply. A sudden
burst of pain made him cry out, as Qui-Gon's teeth sank into his flesh, and
he struggled desperately in the chains.
This isn't happening! he cried to himself, as he felt those hands on him,
prodding and pinching, hurting him. He was barely aware that he was uttering
cries of denial, and he sent a plea winging to Qui-Gon, his loving Master,
the man who had guarded and protected him since he was a child. The plea
went unanswered, and Obi-Wan moaned as the hands held him apart, and Qui-Gon
dropped to his knees and forced his tongue inside him, oh, gods, he never
wanted it like this...
/Master, please, I would have given freely, why would you do-/
/Obi-Wan?/
His head jerked upright.
There was a muffled noise of fury from beneath him.
"Careless of me."
Obi-Wan, shocked, did not move, and he felt those walls of Darkness wrapping
around him again, and he knew then, he'd felt Qui-Gon again, briefly, and it
was not this man beneath him, violating his body and his trust in his
master.
"Sith," he whispered. Was it Belial, or the other? It hardly mattered, did
it, and he felt that tongue at him again, and he fought as well as he was
able, scissoring his legs and twisting madly, and the Sith lord rose, still
with the face of his master, and his hips were seized and held still.
/Submit to me, Jedi./
/Never./
"Then fight me."
The mask of Qui-Gon wavered and fell away, and there was nothing but those
pale colorless eyes, death-cold. They held him in their chill depths, and he
was unable to look away.
/Sidious./
/Kenobi./
/Release me./
A spiraling of mirth, twisted and black.
/Jedi...your defiance is futile./
/You will fail, Sidious. I will die before I turn./
"Will you?" Quietly.
The Sith Lord moved behind him, and he felt hard fingers parting him again.
He fought.
/Taste your helplessness, Jedi. You belong to me./
The Darkness was stifling, all around him, and he was drowning.
/Call to your master, Obi-Wan. He comes./
/I will not fear/
/Call to him./
A sudden flare of agony, and he remained silent.
/No/
Hands on his hips, lifting him, and more pain, a blunt, brutal thrusting.
/At last, Obi-Wan/
Still he fought, though it went on forever, and when it was finally over, he
sagged in the chains helplessly, no longer able to feel his hands. The
numbness was traveling down his arms, and his shoulders were screaming for
release.
/That was so sweet, Obi-Wan./ The hands touched him again, and Obi-Wan
arched his body away from the touch
"You still resist me."
"I am a Jedi," whispered Obi-Wan.
"Meaningless words."
Obi-Wan shook his head.
"Oh, yes. Let me show you how meaningless..." His words trailed off as he
moved away, disappearing into the blackness. Obi-Wan heard the creak and
grind of a heavy door, then two sets of footsteps.
Sidious...and Belial.
Belial was stripped to the waist, wearing only tightly-fitting leather
leggings. His usual supple movement was gone. He walked as though he were in
pain. Obi-Wan looked into his eyes and saw the weariness there.
"He makes you suffer, Belial."
"Silence, " hissed Sidious. "My love...show our young guest the remote."
Belial reached into his waistband and withdrew a small object.
Sidious indicated the remote with a wave of his hand. "This controls the
thermal detonator that my apprentice has concealed within the Jedi Council
Chamber. The Council is gathered now...it is time that our plans are put
into action."
"No!" cried Obi-Wan, fighting the chains once again. Not the Council, he
thought, and he clamped down on the fear that assailed him.
"No? Tell me, young Jedi, what would you give for their lives?"
Belial stepped forward and turned the remote over in his hand, his eyes
fixed upon Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan looked from Sidious to Belial.
He knew what answer was expected of him.
Sidious' head turned toward the door. He nodded to Belial, who tucked the
remote back inside his waistband and crept toward the door.
"Their lives, Jedi...and your Master's."
Night had fallen over the Jedi Temple.
Mace Windu leaned forward in his seat, narrowly regarding the other members
of the Council.
Qui-Gon, he thought. What I do for you...
It was not the first time he'd pleaded Qui-Gon's cause to the Council,
though it certainly was the most challenging...but he'd done well, and the
Council had finally concurred on several points: a clone of Obi-Wan Kenobi
had been created; that clone had impersonated Obi-Wan, misleading even
Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan was in considerable danger, and Qui-Gon had been right
to go in search of him.
"We must discover why the bond between Master and Padawan was so weakened,"
said Ki-Adi-Mundi.
There was silence, then a soft voice.
"I have...a theory," said Depa Billaba.
Mace felt a warm rush of pride as she spoke to the silent Council.
/Well done, Padawan mine./
"It is forbidden," said Even Piell flatly.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi is a senior Padawan," said Adi Gallia. "If he were an
initiate or a second or third-year apprentice, then I would be concerned.
But he is past the age of consent, and so..." she shrugged eloquently.
"On what do you base your theory, Master Billaba?" said Ki-Adi-Mundi.
"On the holodisc, Master," she replied. "Is it not possible that the clone
manipulated Qui-Gon, taking advantage of his feelings for his apprentice?"
"And what of the Code?" Plo Koon demanded.
"What of it?" retorted Saesee Tinn. "It is a guide to the Jedi, a source of
Light and wisdom. Tell me, Master, how the Code is violated by love between
two Jedi Knights."
"You forget that one is not a full Knight."
"As near as makes little difference."
"There is the issue of coercion..."
"If Padawan Kenobi had been coerced, someone...one of the soul-healers,
perhaps...
would have discerned it."
"What makes you so sure?"
"You doubt the abilities of the soul-healers?"
"You put words into my mouth, Master."
"This is conjecture! We do not know without doubt that Qui-Gon Jinn has
these feelings for his apprentice..."
Mace stood and clapped his hands together sharply. "Masters!"
They stared at him, surprised into silence.
He lowered his voice. "If Qui-Gon Jinn fails to return with his apprentice,
all these concerns will be for naught. I suggest we all meditate on this,
and let the Force guide us." He looked around, dismayed. What is happening
here? he thought. The Darkness is pervasive, and we are fighting amongst
ourselves.
He looked at Yoda, who had remained silent during the debate. The wizened
Jedi Master was gazing at him, and Mace, not for the first time, felt that
Yoda knew exactly what he was thinking.
He turned back to the Council.
"Masters...there is more. You know what drew you here tonight...it is
Darkness. We all feel it, and the clone is almost certainly the source.
Qui-Gon told me that he saw the clone outside this chamber before he was
attacked. The droid Guardian was deactivated. Something is wrong...can you
not sense it?"
The Councillors nodded or muttered affirmation.
"Was the lock deactivated?" Oppo Rancisis asked.
Eeth Koth rose and walked to the doors. He knelt and placed his hand on the
lock.
"The failsafe code has been altered," he announced.
The Council members looked at one another uneasily.
"We must focus," said Yaddle. "Together."
Eeth Koth locked the doors and made his way back to his seat.
There was a hush as each Jedi Master concentrated. It was difficult; the
Darkness was an almost palpable presence now, shifting around them, seeming
to grow and swell, fighting each of them.
But then, one, two, three...they joined each other, their separate
consciousness blending, gaining in strength as each Master linked with one
another, holding on firmly, and at last the Light blanketed the room and
they searched the past, the trails of Darkness that became a vortex in the
center of the room...
Adi Gallia rose to her feet.
"The center stone," she said.
Qui-Gon dropped the freighter out of hyperspace, ignoring the brilliant
streaks of light from the stars, a sight that ordinarily never failed to
amaze him. He kept his focus on the small planet on his nav-screen.
And there it was.
Its surface was unusually colored...red-streaked black, oddly familiar, and
then it came to him.
It looked like the stone he had given Obi-Wan on his thirteenth birthday. He
closed his eyes briefly and took a deep cleansing breath.
He slowed his approach, adjusting to the gravitational pull of the planet.
It looked dead, and as he banked the freighter down, he took in the jagged
terrain, the volcanic mountains with their gaping maws pocking the
landscape. There was no life at all on the surface of the planet. He frowned
and turned to the datascreen.
Sullustans lived underground. Life could not exist on the exterior surface
of the planet, and so...principal cities: Denaali. Keis Lar'et.
Piringiisi...
Piringiisi.
He reset the autopilot.
Not long now.
It was close, and Qui-Gon picked out an anomaly in the planet's rough
composition. A tower, graceful and lovely, jutting out of the stone,
completely incongruous.
The emanations of Darkness were overpowering.
He set the freighter down gently at the base of the tower. He throttled the
engines back.
And almost cried out as he felt Obi-Wan again, pleading with him, nearly
incoherent.
/Obi-Wan?/
Silence again, and Qui-Gon stepped firmly on his anger and fear.
/I am coming, Obi-Wan./
He retrieved two respirators from cargo hold, putting one on and tossing the
other into a pack. The atmosphere could not be borne for long. He added more
items. A medikit. A rappelling system.
Obi-Wan's lightsaber.
He left the ship, straining to see through the thick clouds. His eyes stung,
and he wished he'd brought protective eyewear. He made his way to the base
of the tower and circled it. Its diameter was about two hundred meters, and
there was no discernible entrance. He looked upwards. No, not likely. There
were no handholds; the stone was as slick as glass and the top of the tower
was too high to reach even with his rappel.
Glass...
What was one of Master Yoda's favorite sayings...?
"When in doubt, direct your approach should be."
He drew and ignited his saber.
An hour later, Qui-Gon had created a hole large enough to crawl through, and
small enough not to cause any structural damage.
He hoped.
He crawled inside.
It was a lift tube, with a maintenance ladder on the opposite wall. Qui-Gon
clung to the wall and allowed himself to slide down until his feet hit a
narrow ledge. He painstakingly made his way around the tube to the ladder
and quickly descended into the blackness.
He'd gone about four hundred meters down before his feet touched solid
ground. He ignited his saber again and saw a small door set into the wall.
He opened it onto a long, narrow corridor.
The Darkness was so close, and he sensed Obi-Wan's presence now; hurt, weak,
with a slight tinge of fear, but there was courage beneath it all and he
smiled despite his worry.
/My brave Padawan./
He followed the dark path, and his saber glowed, and it lit his way as he
strode unerringly through the gloom.
A turn here, another turn there, and he pulled up short as he came upon two
red-robed guards armed with force pikes.
For a moment he considered simply killing them, silently and efficiently. It
would be so much easier...no, he thought. There is not just cause. Yet.
/Sleep/
They dropped to the ground.
Qui-Gon stepped over them and grasped the door handle.
He flung the door open, and beheld his apprentice dangling from a set of
chains. A black robed figure stood behind him holding a glowing crimson
saber to his naked chest. Another flash of red caught his eye. He whirled,
saber at the ready.
Belial.
There was no sound but the humming of three lightsabers.
Qui-Gon and Belial stood opposing each other, their faces illuminated by
their radiant weapons.
"You should not have come here, Qui-Gon," Belial whispered.
Qui-Gon gazed at him steadily.
He had given Obi-Wan a cursory examination. His padawan had lost weight, and
there were bruises on his waist and his hips...marks that looked like
handprints. A sudden anger seized him. He felt Obi-Wan's tangled emotions:
fear for Qui-Gon, frustration at his own powerlessness, hope, and shame.
/Still, my padawan. There is no cause for shame./
His answer was a chuckle from the one who stood behind Obi-Wan, his scarlet
blade held nearly close enough to burn the young man's skin.
The Darkness was overwhelming, thick and redolent with evil. Belial had not
lied. He was a Sith, but the primary source of the Darkness was not Belial;
it was the dark-robed one, the one using his padawan as hostage and human
shield. Sith. No honor in that gesture, but there was no honor in evil,
Qui-Gon reminded himself.
There would be justice, Qui-Gon thought. He allowed his anger to flow
through him and out of him.
"You have come for your apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn."
"Fear not, Padawan," Qui-Gon said softly. "I'll have you free soon."
"Your confidence is misplaced, Jinn."
"Release him at once," said Qui-Gon.
"You're a fool, Jedi," said the Dark Lord. "And you are beaten already.
Surrender now, and I promise you a quick death."
"If you do not release him, then you force me to destroy you." Qui-Gon moved
into a ready stance. Belial followed suit.
Another laugh, and the blade inched closer to Obi-Wan's chest.
"Jedi." The voice was full of contempt. "This boy...is he worth dying for?"
"No," whispered Obi-Wan. "Master, please-" The Sith's arm slipped around
Obi-Wan's neck and tightened, cutting off further speech.
Qui-Gon never took his eyes from the clone.
There was a febrile glitter in Belial's eyes. He lifted his chin and smiled
at Qui-Gon.
"Worth dying for, yes," said Qui-Gon. "And if I must...worth killing for."
"Yes..." hissed the Sith Lord. "Perhaps he is."
The Dark Lord took his arm from Obi-Wan's neck. The crimson blade moved up
to Obi-Wan's throat and a white hand slid over his belly. Obi-Wan bore the
touch without protest, though Qui-Gon could sense the young man's distress.
"Take your hand away from him."
The hand slipped lower.
"I sense your rage, Jedi. Release it."
"I do not wish to destroy you."
"No? What about Belial?"
"I do not wish to destroy him either."
Belial stared at Qui-Gon, his expression unfathomable.
"You don't wish to destroy him...what if I told you that he raped your
apprentice, Master Jinn? Yes...I feel your anger. Strike him down. Kill
him."
"Master?" Belial's eyes flicked toward the Sith Lord.
"Yes, Jedi." The voice was a gleeful whisper. "Kill him."
Qui-Gon felt an unexpected pang of sympathy at the shock and wounded
betrayal in the clone's eyes.
He looked at Belial. "You are expendable, young one. The Sith uses you for
his own ends, and would discard you when your usefulness is at an end."
"You lie," whispered Belial. The clone's face contradicted his words.
"No, Belial. You know I speak the truth. Search your feelings...surely there
is still some Light in you."
Belial's eyes narrowed. He sprang at Qui-Gon and struck the first blow,
arcing his saber downward from a high attack position. It was a common
maneuver, and Qui-Gon deflected it easily, bringing his own saber up to meet
Belial's with a sizzling crash. Qui-Gon shoved Belial back, and Belial
stumbled and righted himself quickly.
The two, Jedi Master and Sith clone, circled each other warily.
Qui-Gon noted his opponent's motions. The clone moved gracelessly, and his
breathing was shallow.
"What has he done to you, young one?"
"All that he has done," gritted out Belial from between clenched teeth, "is
shown me the truth about the Jedi...you are all weak-minded fools. He gives
me strength."
"Then why do I sense pain and fear in you?"
Snarling with rage, Belial launched himself at Qui-Gon in deadly earnest.
Qui-Gon retreated as the clone's blade advanced upon him in a shower of
vicious blows.
Belial was a skilled fighter, and his rage made him even more powerful.
Qui-Gon executed a graceful somersault, landing behind Belial, who whirled
to meet him, his long braid flying. Their sabers locked, crimson and green,
sputtering angrily. Qui-Gon pushed Belial away, his greater size and
strength giving him a momentary advantage.
"Belial, " he said, "come back to Coruscant with us. You can be healed." He
pitched his voice persuasively, using Force. He felt the clone's mental
shields slam up. "Let us help you," he continued. "You can escape this
Darkness."
The clone attacked again, saber held high, then feinted and swooped in low.
Qui-Gon stumbled back in time to avoid evisceration, barely shying off the
aggressive offense.
The Sith standing behind Obi-Wan laughed. Belial glared at Qui-Gon.
"Fool Jedi," he rasped. "Why would I want to go back to Coruscant, back to
your mewling clutch of monks? My master has given me more than the Jedi ever
could. If only you'd give in to your passions, Qui-Gon, you'd know such
power. I could have shared it with you and Obi-Wan...now you force me to
kill you."
The pair circled each other slowly.
"You are in need of healing, Belial," Qui-Gon repeated. "Let me help you."
"Help me...how, Jedi? Will you fuck me again? Will you give in to your
passions, Qui-Gon?" His voice rose tauntingly.
"Our joining was a mistake, and that you know," Qui-Gon said. "I did it out
of love for Obi-Wan."
"And I?"
"Tell me, young one. Why did you do it?"
Belial let out a howl and tore forward, his lightsaber hissing in a flurry
of violent thrusts. Qui-Gon parrried his attack, returned the blows,
escalated the battle.
The scintillating blades moved with blinding speed, crackling loudly as they
made contact. Sparks flew madly; the air filled with the electric, ozone
smell of the sabers.
Belial dodged a wide swing and stumbled. Qui-Gon pressed his advantage,
striking the clone a blow on his bare swordarm, then again, through his left
shoulder. Belial let out a cry, retreated, lost his footing, and fell to the
ground. Qui-Gon heard the distinctive snap of a breaking bone. He looked
down at Belial as he grimaced in pain, saber held up against him. Qui-Gon
lifted his lightsaber. It would be easy to kill him quickly...
"Stop, Jedi...or Obi-Wan will die. I promise you that."
Qui-Gon turned and gazed at the Sith Lord.
"Before you joined us, Master Jinn, Obi-Wan was about to plead for your
life, and the life of the Council. Were you not, young Jedi?" The Sith's
white hand was fondling Obi-Wan obscenely. Obi-Wan's eyes were closed, his
head tilted back. His bound hands were clenched, and he made no sound. Once
again, Qui-Gon felt his shame and frustration.
/No, Padawan. No cause./
Another laugh.
"Belial..."
Qui-Gon's gaze swiveled to the clone, who still lay on the floor, his face
twisted in pain. Belial slowly tugged a small black object from the
waistband of his leggings with his free hand, his saber still activated.
A remote.
Qui-Gon knew then the reason for Belial's presence outside the Council
Chamber.
"Your choice, Kenobi. Join me, and your Master and the Council will
live...defy me, and they will die."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Qui-Gon, his face a picture of utter
misery and pain.
Qui-Gon would not send to Obi-Wan. The Sith had intercepted all of Qui-Gon's
mental communication. Instead, he looked at Obi-Wan tranquilly, allowing his
eyes to speak for him.
Courage, my Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at his master.
How can I choose? How can I condemn the Council to death?
And Qui-Gon?
Qui-Gon's eyes were fixed upon his, blue and fearless and full of
warmth...and love.
He made his choice.
Obi-Wan twisted slightly.
"If I joined you, Sidious," he said, his voice full of strength and clarity
of purpose, "I would do the Council, and my Master, a greater disservice
than if I killed each of them with my own hands. I am a Jedi, dedicated to
the Light...and I will never join you. Never."
Qui-Gon smiled.
"That is your choice?" The Dark Lord's voice was ominously soft.
"Yes."
"So be it...Jedi. My apprentice...kill them."
Qui-Gon turned to leap at Belial, to take the remote. A wall of Darkness
stopped him, held him still.
Belial, only half-conscious, thumbed the switch on the remote.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes.
There was silence.
Qui-Gon concentrated, bracing himself for the devastation, the passage of
the greatest minds of the Jedi Order.
There is no death...
"There is the Force." A murmur.
Obi-Wan...he wheeled.
Obi-Wan's eyes were shining.
Oh, gods, oh gods...he was there, his padawan, and his eyes were alight with
joy, summersea eyes, beautiful, and unafraid, searing death mere centimeters
from him and still unafraid. Jedi to the core.
/Master/
/My Obi-Wan/
The Light surrounded them, and Qui-Gon's face broke into a smile.
"They live."
The crimson blade at Obi-Wan's throat dipped. "What...?"
"The Council lives, Sith. You have failed."
There was a brief, bitter laugh from the floor. Qui-Gon glanced down at the
clone, whose lips were set in a mirthless grin.
Qui-Gon felt the dark ripple as the Sith Lord stretched out and sought the
truth.
"No." A strangled whisper, choked with rage and hate.
"You failed, Master." Belial's voice, a hoarse whisper.
"No."
The saber fell from Obi-Wan's throat.
The Sith's hold on Qui-Gon was broken. Swifter than sight, Qui-Gon leapt
forward and sliced through Obi-Wan's chains with one clean motion. Obi-Wan
dropped to the floor, and Darth Sidious was unprotected.
Another wall of Force picked Qui-Gon up and slammed him into the opposite
wall. When Qui-Gon struggled to his feet, the Sith was gone.
Qui-Gon rushed to Obi-Wan, who had stood shakily. Quickly he stripped off
his robe and draped it over Obi-Wan's shoulders.
"Padawan," he said. "Are you hurt?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, Master. Darth Sidious...we have to stop him."
Qui-Gon hesitated. Obi-Wan was injured, he couldn't possibly pursue the
Sith...
He unclipped Obi-Wan's lightsaber from his belt and handed it to him.
"You stay here. Guard Belial. We'll take him back with us."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again.
"Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon flew out of the room and down the corridor.
Darth Sidious slipped wraithlike into his private hangar. It was empty but
for a young Iridonian Zabrak, who was cleaning the aft of a small, sleek
ship, the MARAUDER.
"You!" Sidious snapped. "Is this ship prepared for takeoff?"
"Yes, my Lord." The Zabrakian's face was carefully respectful.
"Set a course for Coruscant. Now."
He boarded the ship and watched the young pilot make efficient, hasty
preparations for departure. Minutes later, they blasted out of the hangar.
Shortly, Sullust was behind them, and the stars were pale streaks as they
made the jump to hyperspace.
Sidious allowed himself to relax, though his heart was filled with rage.
You have deprived me of an apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn, and you and your
padawan will pay for that. Some day, you will both pay for that. You have
cost me years and tremendous expense, and now I must find a new apprentice.
You will pay.
He sat back in his chair and meditated.
The young Zabrakian made his way to the passenger lounge where the Dark Lord
sat.
"We will reach Coruscant in approximately nine hours, my Lord." His voice
was soft and deep.
The Dark Lord regarded the young man thoughtfully.
He felt a strong ripple of Force.
He smiled briefly.
"Sit," he invited the young man.
Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and walked over to where Belial lay.
The clone's face was white, and his eyes were closed. The wounds on his arm
and shoulder had been cauterized by the intense heat of Qui-Gon's blade, but
they were serious. He would need healers, and quickly. His still-lit saber
was clutched in his hand.
"Well, Jedi," he rasped, "I congratulate you. You have defeated me."
"Your Master has abandoned you, Belial." Obi-Wan's heart was heavy. Belial
had chosen the dark path, but Sidious had manipulated him all along. Who
could say whether the clone's choice was his own? He looked at the still
white face...so like his own.
His dark twin.
Belial's eyes opened.
"Why don't you kill me, Obi-Wan? I know it's what you've wanted to do for
days now..." his voice shook.
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Perhaps I did. But I was wrong. Qui-Gon was right.
You can be healed."
Belial sat up slowly. Obi-Wan backed up. He was weak, but Belial was weaker.
If he had to overpower him, so be it.
Belial smiled at him, and there was a sweetness in that smile despite the
agony in his eyes.
His twin...
Obi-Wan felt the sting of tears behind his eyes.
"Belial...how much of me is there in you?"
The clone gave a little hitching laugh.
"Not enough, Jedi. Not enough."
Suddenly, with stunning speed, Belial lifted his blade and drew it across
his throat.
"NO!" Obi-Wan leapt toward him as he slumped over on his side. The
lightsaber clattered onto the stone floor, deactivated.
Obi-Wan knelt on the floor and lifted the clone into his arms. Blue-green
eyes met, held each other.
Belial raised a hand.
"...loved..."
The cold hand found Obi-Wan's.
Belial's eyes went wide and sightless.
Qui-Gon returned to the chamber, panting for breath.
"He got away, Pada-"
He stopped short. Belial lay in the center of the floor, his eyes closed, an
ugly gash across his throat. Obi-Wan had stripped the still-sleeping guards
of their cloaks and had surrounded the clone with torn strips of the fabric.
"Belial's dead, Master."
Qui-Gon didn't reply.
Obi-Wan took the torch from the wall and poured the torch oil on the torn
cloaks. He silently handed the torch to Qui-Gon, picked up Belial's saber
and placed it in the clone's hands. Then he took the torch back from Qui-Gon
and touched it to the fabric. It ignited immediately, surrounding Belial in
flames. Obi-Wan stepped back and folded his arms, the chains clinking on his
wrists.
He stood apart from Qui-Gon, lost in the voluminous black robe, his face
somber.
Qui-Gon remained silent. There was much to say, so much, but now was not the
time.
They watched the flames consume the body of Darth Belial together.
Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon hesitantly.
"Master..."
Qui-Gon faced his padawan slowly.
Obi-Wan's mouth trembled.
"Obi-Wan."
He opened his arms, and Obi-Wan was there, clutching him convulsively, and
he wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the young man's hair,
not bothering to hide his tears. They held each other tightly, not letting
go, each taking comfort in the other, seeking refuge, seeking Light, seeking
love, and finding it in each other.
/You are safe now, my padawan. My beloved./
/Safe./
Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan, and his heart tightened. Obi-Wan's face was
happy, happier than he'd seen in years, despite his ordeal, despite the pain
and anguish he'd suffered.
And the cause of that happiness?
Qui-Gon shook his head unbelievingly.
/Yes./
And Obi-Wan kissed him, and the Force washed over them, sweet and pure and
alive with power and Light, and their tears mingled as he returned the kiss,
certain that he had never been happier in his entire life.
/Let's go home, Padawan./
/Yes, Master...home./
Black storm clouds billowed and a pounding rain swept the Jedi Temple as two
men emerged from a small freighter. The first man was tall, bearded, with
long hair and dark garments. He stepped off the ramp and waited for his
companion, a young man wearing a black robe many sizes too large. The young
man was barefoot.
Their faces were solemn, and they did not speak.
The pair made their way into the Temple, to the Council Chamber.
The Council was silent as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked to the center of the
room and bowed.
Mace Windu broke the silence, as was customary.
"We welcome you back to the Temple, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi."
They murmured acknowledgements.
"Padawan Kenobi...we are thankful that you are safe."
"Thank you, Master."
Mace scrutinized Obi-Wan intently. "You will see the healers immediately.
The Council will need to gather as much information as possible as to the
identity of your abductor, and when you are ready, your help will be
required." He softened his voice somewhat. "Obi-Wan...you have been through
a grave ordeal, and we will focus upon your healing above all else."
"With respect, Master...I feel confident in my ability to help you at once."
Mace's eyebrows shot up. He exchanged a glance with Depa Billaba, who smiled
at him.
"Very well. Master Gallia?" Adi Gallia stood and walked toward Qui-Gon and
Obi-Wan.
"We go to the healers first, Padawan. Then to my offices."
Obi-Wan bowed his head. "Yes, Master."
As Adi Gallia propelled Obi-Wan toward the door, she gave Qui-Gon's arm a
brief squeeze.
Qui-Gon returned the touch affectionately.
The door closed silently. Qui-Gon waited until they had closed completely
before he spoke.
"Masters...I am glad that you found the detonator in time."
"There was little time, Master Jinn. The Force was with us. We were able to
focus and neutralize the device shortly before the remote was triggered,"
said Oppo Rancisis softly.
"Your warning to Master Windu saved us," said Yaddle.
"I am honored to have served you, Masters."
"Qui-Gon," said Mace, "your communication from Sullust has caused us great
concern. Do you truly believe that Padawan Kenobi's abductors were Sith?"
"I am certain of it."
"And was your apprentice aware of this during his captivity?"
"He was," Qui-Gon confirmed.
Yoda nodded, gazing at Qui-Gon.
"A thousand years they have been gone," he said. "Yet, extinct they are
not."
"You believe this to be true, Master Yoda?" said Ki-Adi-Mundi.
"You felt the Darkness...we all did," said Even Piell. "The Dark Side was at
work, and with concentrated strength such as I've never felt before. I
believe Qui-Gon is correct."
"Why have we never felt this before?" mused Plo Koon.
"The Dark Side is hard to see," Eeth Koth reminded him.
"Obi-Wan spoke of a plot," said Qui-Gon. Debate all you like, Masters, he
thought. I know what I saw and felt...as does Obi-Wan. Dismiss me, so I may
tell Obi-Wan that I can be his Master no longer.
His sadness was tempered by resignation. I did what I did, he thought. I
acted in a manner unbecoming a Jedi Knight. That I took selfish and brutal
pleasure with Obi-Wan's clone is irrelevant. There is no excuse, and I shall
have to tell Obi-Wan. I don't know how I shall tell him, but I must. He will
have a new Master...perhaps Mace can take over his instruction for a few
years...
"We found evidence of massive armed mobilization on Yrrna," said Plo Koon.
"Unfortunately, all those in command and most of the forces had fled by the
time the Jedi arrived, leaving only trace clues. Nevertheless, the Yrrna
situation is now under control, and the Senate is on alert for similar
activity."
"Will that be enough?" asked Qui-Gon.
"It will have to be...for now. There are too few Jedi and thousands of known
systems. The Senate must help us. The individual systems must help
themselves."
"We must examine all facets of this situation, Qui-Gon," said Mace. "And
Obi-Wan must be examined as well."
"If your intent is to search for Darkness...you will find none. Obi-Wan
acquitted himself with more courage than I have ever seen in my life. He
acted in accordance with the Code, and he was fully in tune with the Force."
"We must be cautious, Qui-Gon," said Mace.
Qui-Gon bowed his head, recognizing their prudence. He had no doubts about
Obi-Wan's loyalty.
"Masters, I ask you for his sake...be careful with him. There are many
things he endured...and there is much I still do not know about his ordeal.
I did not want to press him too soon."
"Padawan Kenobi is strong in the Force," observed Eeth Koth.
"He is," returned Qui-Gon. "Stronger than anyone suspected. He survived
overwhelming adversity, and emerged the more powerful for it."
"We see this."
Qui-Gon nodded and unlatched his saber from his belt. There was little more
to be said. Obi-Wan was safe. The Council would investigate the plot against
the Republic. His work was done. His time as a Jedi was at an end.
"Master Jinn."
Qui-Gon turned to face Depa Billaba.
He had always considered her one of the most brilliant and compassionate
minds on the Council. It had wounded him almost beyond endurance when she
had scorned him in the Chamber days before. No more than I deserved, he
thought, steeling himself.
"Master Jinn...days ago you stood before us in this chamber and accepted the
judgment of the Council."
"I did."
"The Council wishes to withdraw that judgment."
Qui-Gon was absolutely still.
The Council members looked at Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon stared ahead unseeingly,
feeling their concentration.
"Qui-Gon," Depa said, "The integrity of the Jedi Order has been attacked. If
the clone was truly Sith, then we must all be on our guard, for we know that
they moved against us, and in the form of one of our own. Were it not for
you, we would not have discovered the clone's motives, and Padawan Kenobi
would still be in the hands of the Sith."
"But, Master...my actions..."
"You were most unfairly deceived, Master Jinn," said Saesee Tinn. "The clone
exploited your feelings for your padawan."
Qui-Gon stared at him, stunned.
"Tried to tell us, did you not?" said Yoda.
Qui-Gon stood silently. It was out now, and there was another breach of the
Code, another reason for his expulsion. Well, he thought, I've gone this
far...
"I did, my Master."
"The Council has conferred regarding this matter," said Mace. "We have
determined that in this case, Padawan Kenobi is of an age to make his own
decision, should you request any union with him."
Qui-Gon, nodding, hid a smile. Mace, being oblique again. Still, it was
preferable to outright vulgarity.
"Have a care, Master Jinn," cautioned Even Piell sternly. "It is conceivable
that Obi-Wan's feelings for you now might simply be gratitude that you
rescued him from a life-threatening situation. You must not take advantage
of that."
"No, Master."
"Master Jinn," said Depa Billaba, "we ask your forgiveness."
Silence fell over the Council Chamber.
Qui-Gon's hands tightened on the hilt of his lightsaber.
"Masters...you have it."
"Go, then," said Mace, "and may the Force be with you."
Qui-Gon bowed and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he stopped.
He'd almost forgotten...
He turned and walked to Yoda's chair. Dropping to one knee, he bowed his
head.
"I thank you for your guidance, my Master."
He got up and left the chamber, his heart light.
The door hissed shut.
Ten pairs of curious eyes were focused on Yoda.
The Jedi Master looked around, ever so slightly discomfited.
"Hmph."
He got off his chair and plodded away.
The meeting was adjourned.
Obi-Wan opened the door to his and Qui-Gon's rooms and trudged inside. He
lay wearily on the couch and flung an arm over his face, shielding his eyes
from the light. Had it only been mere days since he'd been dragged from this
room? It seemed like years...
He sat up. He was exhausted, and ravenous, he realized. He hadn't had a
proper meal in days. He stood and went to the cooler and rummaged out a
quantity of food...cheese, bread, fruit, some fish...he stood at the counter
and ate, not really tasting anything. He washed it down with cold tea and
went back to the couch, picking up a datapad that Adi Gallia had given him,
the Jedi's findings on Yrrna.
He looked listlessly at the pad, and heard a noise, a murmur. He looked up,
adrenaline coursing through his body. The noise was repeated and he relaxed
slowly, realizing that it was Qui-Gon, mumbling in his sleep. He must have
returned hours before.
He smiled, and all at once the smile died. How long before I feel safe in my
own rooms, he thought. How long before the nightmares disappear?
And how can I face myself again? And Qui-Gon...
His earlier happiness had diminished, and agony gnawed at his insides.
He stared at the datapad, trying to focus on it, but he kept reading the
same sentence over and over again. Frustrated, he put the pad down and lay
on the couch again. Something hard jammed into his side, and he reached into
the interior pocket of Qui-Gon's black robe and withdrew a tiny
holoprojector. He flipped it on and an image rose...Qui-Gon and himself, at
the Djais wedding, their arms thrown about each other.
He set it down on the table and stared at it until he fell asleep.
It was early morning when Qui-Gon rose, yawning and threading fingers
through his loosened hair, and went into the common room. He glanced out the
window. It was still raining, and the sky was still black. Through the walls
he heard thunder. It was a comforting sound.
The lights were on, and Obi-Wan lay on the couch, huddled in his robe.
He can't be comfortable there all night, thought Qui-Gon, and bent down to
lift him from the couch.
Obi-Wan, sensing the movement or the presence of another being, flew up with
a low, wild cry, his face white, his arms flung out. Seeing Qui-Gon, he
flushed and sat back on the couch.
Cursing himself silently, Qui-Gon lowered himself onto the couch. "I'm
sorry, Padawan. I'd thought to take you to your own bed."
Obi-Wan pulled the robe more tightly around himself. "I'm fine, Master."
"I'm sorry to have woken you."
"No...I've slept enough, I think." He rose and walked to the 'fresher,
closing the door behind him.
Qui-Gon sat and gazed at the holo of himself and Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan emerged from the 'fresher a half hour later. His hair was wet, and
he'd shaved his beard, and at that moment, still lost in Qui-Gon's robe, he
looked like a padawan of thirteen again, hopeful, alert, impossibly
young...but for his eyes.
This was no boy, thought Qui-Gon. His stomach lurched at the thought of what
he had to say to him.
Hoping to forestall the inevitable, he said, "How was the meeting with
Master Gallia?"
"She is contacting some of her operatives. They are examining the sublevel
hold, and she has already sent Master Tren and Padawan Muln to Sullust to
investigate there."
"And your session with the healers?"
Obi-Wan's face was neutral. "It went as well as could be expected. There
will be no permanent damage."
He sat on the couch next to Qui-Gon and began to comb out his braid. The
sleeves of the robe fell and Qui-Gon saw the slowly healing welts on
Obi-Wan's wrists. Frowning, Qui-Gon reached out and caught Obi-Wan's hand in
his.
"The healers neglected your wrists, Padawan."
"No, Master," said Obi-Wan softly, extracting his hand.
"No?"
"I asked them to leave them alone." The carefully neutral mask had slipped,
and Obi-Wan's face was disconsolate.
"May I ask why, Padawan?"
"The scars are a reminder of my cowardice."
"What?"
Obi-Wan faced Qui-Gon, and his expression was anguished. "While I was a
prisoner, I did nothing. Nothing to free myself, nothing to reason with my
captors. I gave in to my fear, and it almost destroyed me...and the
Council...indeed, the Republic itself." He laughed bitterly, and the laugh
sounded very much like a sob. He stopped, gained control of himself, and
looked at Qui-Gon. "Had you not been there, Master, I might have betrayed
all that I believed in, just to end the pain."
Qui-Gon reached out again and took Obi-Wan by the shoulders.
"Obi-Wan...how can you think that?"
"It's true."
"It is NOT true. You were preyed upon by agents of the Dark Side. They
worked on you ceaselessly...no, you don't have to tell me. I felt it. I felt
it in you, and I felt it in them. It was evil, Obi-Wan, and you never
stopped fighting it. If you had, you would be with them still. You battled
darkness and won. If I were not there, you would not have betrayed all that
you believed...but I am glad that I was there, for they would have killed
you for resisting. And that I could not bear.
"Wear the scars, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon, lifting his hand again and kissing
the livid marks, " because they are not a symbol of cowardice. They are a
testament to your courage."
Obi-Wan looked at him, a faint hope flaring in his eyes.
"Master, I..." he could not go on.
"Obi-Wan...you are a Jedi, now and forever." He leaned forward and kissed
the young man's forehead, and Obi-Wan flung himself at Qui-Gon, embracing
him with amazing strength.
"Thank you, Master. Thank you."
Qui-Gon held him, his heart filled with pride, hurt, and love.
Oh, my Obi-Wan. There is still so much more...
He decided to tell him now. Why put it off any longer, he thought.
"Obi-Wan...there are things I must say."
"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan's voice was muffled against Qui-Gon's sleep-tunic.
Qui-Gon gently disentangled himself from Obi-Wan's grasp.
"Please, my padawan...this is not going to be easy for me to say." He
stopped suddenly. He'd made a similar declaration to Belial days ago.
Thus the reason for this confession.
Oh, the irony...
"Obi-Wan," he said, "Do you recall Belial's words during our battle?"
"Every word, Master." Obi-Wan's face was grim.
"I thought as much. You will remember, then, that Belial made an allusion to
a physical relationship between us."
Obi-Wan stared at him. Oh, gods, thought Qui-Gon, this was going to be worse
than he thought.
"Obi-Wan...Belial spoke the truth. He and I..." He struggled for his next
words.
Obi-Wan lay a hand on his arm. "I know, Master."
"He told you?" Why am I surprised, Qui-Gon thought somewhat bitterly.
"No...I saw. He...he made me watch."
"Oh, Obi-Wan...my Padawan...I am so sorry. Forgive me."
"Master," said Obi-Wan, shaking his head, "there is nothing to forgive.
Nothing. I heard what you said to Belial...about the bond...which was as
much my fault as it was yours. No...let me finish. It was my fault as much
as it was yours. I saw you make love to him...I saw the holo that caused
your ejection from the Order-"
So he saw that, too, thought Qui-Gon. And yet he is not angry with me.
Obi-Wan continued. "I saw all that, Master. Belial showed me, and it was
worse than the physical pain, worse than being cut off from the Force,
knowing that you had been deceived, knowing that you were a victim of his
machinations-"
I was a victim, and he hurt for me...how much more compassion, how much more
bravery could Obi-Wan display before Qui-Gon simply broke down and wept for
him?
"-and I knew that the love you felt was for me, and I was afraid, afraid
that I would never see you again, afraid that we would never..." Obi-Wan
trailed off, looking at his scarred wrists.
Qui-Gon pressed him to the couch and kissed him.
Oh, it was sweetness, incomparable sweetness, and how could he have mistaken
the clone for Obi-Wan? His mouth was lovely, like honey, and he kissed
Qui-Gon with an endearing shyness, his mouth yielding, opening like a
blossom, and finally his tongue found its way into Qui-Gon's mouth, soft and
utterly delightful, and becoming more insistent, more demanding, until they
were locked together, holding each other with all their strength.
Obi-Wan broke away. His breath was rapid, and his face was flushed.
"Love me. Love me, Master. Please," he begged, trailing kisses down the
exposed length of Qui-Gon's throat and chest.
"Obi-Wan, it's too soon, you've not recovered yet-"
"I will," he said. "I will...heal me, love me...I need you to love me."
"My love...it's too soon." Even Piell's words echoed in his head.
"No, Master. I am well, I am...help me heal." His voice was roughened and
desperately longing, and his legs wound around Qui-Gon and he began to move
rhythmically beneath him. Qui-Gon groaned aloud. His penis was achingly hard
and he wanted to take the boy right there on the couch. He felt Obi-Wan's
erection pressing into him. Slowly he rose from the couch, pulling away from
Obi-Wan, who let out a low cry of frustration.
"Oh, Master, please, please...why not?"
Qui-Gon put out a hand. "The bedroom, my beloved."
Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and he took Qui-Gon's outstretched hand and let him
lead the way into the bedroom.
Obi-Wan let the black robe drop. His penis was erect, curving up toward his
stomach, and the red scars stood out against that pale skin. He smiled shyly
at Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon returned the smile, unfastening his tunic, kicking
off his leggings. finally standing splendidly naked in the soft light of
Qui-Gon's bedroom.
Obi-Wan caught his breath shakily, feeling dizzy. Years he'd dreamed of this
moment, and now it was almost too much. He sat on Qui-Gon's disarrayed bed.
Qui-Gon sat next to him, and Obi-Wan turned toward him suddenly, reaching
out. Qui-Gon held him an arm's length away.
"Slow, Obi-Wan...my Obi-Wan..." and he leaned forward and caught Obi-Wan's
mouth in another kiss, and pushed him gently back until Obi-Wan lay beneath
him on the bed, on the disarrayed sheets. Obi-Wan's hands floated up to
travel the skin of his shoulders, his arms...Qui-Gon's hands, firm, warm,
and skillful, found the young man's torso, glided gently down, to his
flanks, back up again, down again, slipping underneath and cupping his ass,
grasping with an infinitely tender pressure that was more than Obi-Wan could
bear. He cried out beneath Qui-Gon's mouth, that exploring tongue, and
pumped his hips, their erections meeting, sliding against each other,
agonizingly pleasurable.
Qui-Gon released his mouth and began to scatter kisses down Obi-Wan's
throat, the nape of his neck, his clavicle, his shoulders. His tongue
trailed over the pale skin, back up to the cleft of Obi-Wan's chin--how he
loved that cleft, that delicate depression---and down again.
"Tell me you love me," gasped Obi-Wan.
"I love you," whispered Qui-Gon. His mouth found Obi-Wan's nipple. "Only
you." The other nipple. "Always you."
"I love you...Qui-Gon...I love you...ohhh..."
Down the flat stomach, around the sensitive cup of the navel, and Obi-Wan
pumped his hips again, his hands thrashing helplessly. Oh, the feel of his
mouth, his lips, his tongue, the slight scrape of his beard, his heated
flesh, that silken hair, maddening pleasure...
Down, at last, to his penis, glistening, drops of moisture at its tip.
Qui-Gon's tongue flicked over it, and Obi-Wan let out a guttural cry, pure
wanting.
"I'm going to...I'm..."
"I want you to, Obi-Wan."
"No...no...inside me...inside..." and Obi-Wan turned over, moaning.
Qui-Gon reached into the bedside table and located the small pot of herbal
oil. He slicked it over his penis and his hand. Obi-Wan writhed on the bed,
drawing his knees up.
"Now, Master...now..."
Qui-Gon's fingers found that tender opening, slid inside, careful not to
damage tissue so recently healed.
Obi-Wan gasped.
"Did I hurt you, my love?"
"No...it's wonderful...please..."
Deeper, deeper, until Qui-Gon was sure that Obi-Wan was prepared. He
straddled him, and the tip of his penis sought entry into those tight
muscles under that soft skin, and he entered slowly, so slowly, until he
thought he would die from the need, and finally he was in, Obi-Wan's body
gripping him, shockingly exquisite, and he began to rock his hips against
Obi-Wan, who found his rhythm, met it, and their bodies ground together,
languid at first, then becoming more and more urgent. Qui-Gon's hand curled
around Obi-Wan's penis and stroked it deeply, from its head to Obi-Wan's
balls, and he felt as though he was plunging into a warm, endless, and
silent sea, the smoothness of the skin beneath him and their deep breaths
and occasional cries, and they came, one after another, his semen exploding
inside Obi-Wan's body, claiming him, taking possession, giving himself, his
Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan....
They lay together in Qui-Gon's bed, the sheets even more wildly disarrayed
than before, pungent with the smell of sex and their bodies, lavishly
intertwined limbs sprawling over the bed.
Obi-Wan drew back and looked at Qui-Gon, who slept peacefully. He burrowed
into his arms, kissing the broad chest. Qui-Gon awoke.
"Sorry, Master."
"Sorry for what, my dear one...waking me? Fie upon you." Qui-Gon grinned at
him.
Obi-Wan laughed, a precious thing from his serious padawan. Qui-Gon's arms
tightened around Obi-Wan.
I will never let you go, my love. Never again. There was still healing
needed, and the road to Obi-Wan's recovery would not be entirely smooth...it
would take time.
And somewhere out there was a Sith Lord, and as long as there was, they
could not be complacent.
But they were Jedi. They would trust in the Force. It would give them
strength.
Qui-Gon looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, velvet blue and summer sea.
"How are you, my Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan smiled at Qui-Gon, and all the stars of the galaxy were in his eyes.
"Safe."
Epilogue...three years later.
Finis Valorum looked at the Senator sitting opposite him.
"I am grateful for your assistance in this matter, Chancellor," the Senator
was saying. "And I am confident that your ambassadors will resolve this
matter quickly. That they are Jedi is an unexpected bonus."
"Indeed, Senator Palpatine...I am sure that Naboo's problems will soon come
to an end."
"Indeed they will," said Senator Palpatine, a broad smile creasing his face.
"Indeed they will."
end.