Checkmate

by Flamethrower

Checkmate

Author: Flamethrower (flamethrower@deadcatharvest.net)

Archive: MA and my site, the perpetually broken Flamethrower's Archive.

Category: Q/O, Slash, behind-the-scenes Non-Con

Summary: Sixth part in the 'Lonely Place' series.

Series: Certainly looks that way by now...
In a Lonely Place
Defiance
Shades of Grey
Geonosis
Falling Pieces

It was Micah Giett's stunned horror that convinced Qui-Gon Jinn that his friend was no traitor. "What he must have done to Obi-Wan," Micah whispered, still staring at the place where Venge had been moments ago. Then he lifted his hand, staring at his left wrist, looking at the long scar that marred his flesh. He had earned it on Yinchorri, when pirates had taken him captive to demand the Jedi leave their planet.

"It must have happened then," Mace said, reaching out to grip Micah's right hand. "Calm yourself, brother. We know our own. You stand with us."

Micah nodded as Qui-Gon laid his hand on Micah's shoulder. "Yes. Damned right I do. But I'm all for finding that transmitter and getting it the hell out of me, if you don't mind."

"To the Healers you will go," Yoda instructed. The Jedi Master pointed with one clawed hand. "Now it must be. Knows we are coming, the Sith does. Give him more than that, we should not."

"Of course, Master," Micah said, heading for the still-open doorway. He paused in the entrance, one hand still clutching his wrist. "Shaak, might want to give poor Jaris here a once-over. Looks like our visitor scared the pants off of the boy."

"Oh, bother," Shaak Ti said, rushing over before kneeling just out of sight. After a moment her voice carried back into the Council chamber. "Just fainted. He'll be all right. He's got a nasty bump on his head from the fall."

Jaris being unharmed seemed to be what pushed Mace into action. "We need information, people. Does anyone have a feed to what happened in the damned Senate a few minutes ago?"

"Would you like eyewitness accounts?" said a new voice.

Qui-Gon half-turned, glad but not surprised to find his Padawan's wife standing there, Anakin just a step behind. Anakin Skywalker's hand was gripping his unlit lightsaber as if he expected to fight a battle... or perhaps he already had. "Anakin?"

Anakin was pale, obviously shaken, but his voice was steady as he stepped forward, addressing the Council. "Masters... Chancellor Palpatine has been declared an enemy of the Republic."

For a moment, no one said a word, though for Qui-Gon it was the end of a long, bitter vigil. At last, the pieces were falling into place. Time to move forward. Time to kill the bastard who had stolen his former Padawan's light.

"You are shitting me," Luminara Unduli blurted out, and Saesee Tiin shot the other Master a startled look, for Luminara was never given to crude language.

"Palpatine? Truly?" Mace said, flabbergasted. "How the hell is that even possible?" he said, glancing down at Yoda. The ancient Master shook his head, for he had no answers for them. If answers were to be found, they would have to seek out the Sith.

Padmé Amidala stepped forward to stand next to her husband. She was smiling, the expression full of the same strength and steel that she had once used to retake her planet from the Trade Federation. "Believe me, it happened. Ten minutes ago, Bail Organa of Alderaan presented evidence before the full Senate, before the Chancellor himself. He was flanked by myself and Knight Skywalker, Mon Mothma of Chandrila, Meena Tills of Mon Calamari, and Tendau Bendon of Ithor. Mas Amedda," she added, her smile turning fierce, "did not want to grant our request for the session, but we pointed out that we still had the right to speak before our fellow Senators, and he had no choice. Bail and I had been handed evidence by several sources who wish to remain anonymous. It took more than a year to piece together the trail that revealed the identity of the Sith Lord. He instigated a war to further his own power. Even Palpatine's Senate appointment on Naboo was never legally confirmed." The glint of anger in her eyes matched the anger that Qui-Gon had fought against for so long. He had been forced to stand next to the Sith Lord on far too many occasions, burying his thoughts lest Palpatine know he was discovered.

"When we presented our findings to the Senate and called for his arrest..." Padmé's voice faltered. "He went mad. If he had wanted to salvage anything, try to prove his innocence, he lost his chance."

"He attacked the box from the Chancellor's podium, Master," Anakin interjected, rubbing the palm of his right hand with his left fingers. Only then did Qui-Gon notice the burns that streaked his Padawan's skin. "Zorched Bail pretty good, but he's going to be all right. I held the lightning at bay, but he vanished before security or any of the attending Jedi could move to apprehend him. Right now we've got no idea where he's gone," Anakin said, frustrated.

"It doesn't matter," Padmé said. "Chancellor Palpatine is guilty of treason, and his power is at an end. The Senate has adjourned for the day, but not before issuing one final edict: Palpatine is now within the purview of the Jedi Order. They are calling upon you to see him brought to justice."

Falling pieces. Everything was falling neatly into place, fitted into little grooves. Pieces that had been invisible until Venge had set things into motion. Qui-Gon exchanged glances with Yoda, who looked as pensive and ill at ease as Qui-Gon felt. This was almost too easy. Yet... was it? For all Qui-Gon knew, Obi-Wan had been arranging this for over a decade. If that was the case, it was the ultimate act of patience and planning.

"Then I guess it's a good thing we know where he is - or at least, where he's going," Ki-Adi Mundi said.

"I'm going with you," Padmé said, not backing down when half of the Council turned to give her reproachful looks. "As a representative of the Senate, it is my duty."

"You're pregnant, Senator," Kit Fisto said at last, tilting his head to the side, flushing yellow with embarrassment.

"What, pregnant people don't know how to shoot back?" Padmé retorted, touching the blaster at her side. The swell of her stomach was unnoticeable beneath her blue robe, but she was already six months along. Qui-Gon glanced at Anakin, who knew his wife best.

Anakin didn't seem concerned. He grinned. "Master Fisto, pregnant women are scary. I'd rather have her with us than pissed off at us. And since I also plan on going with you, it means I don't have to worry about any of Palpatine's allies taking shots at my wife while we're off saving the galaxy."

"And you, Knight Skywalker?" Yoda looked up at Anakin, green eyes full of concern. "Your friend, he seemed to be. Your ally, he was. With us, think you should be?"

Anakin stared down at the ancient Master, the one who had once spoken the most fervently against Anakin's training. "Master Yoda... it's all right. I guess it's-no. Master, I knew two years ago that the Sith tried to have my mother killed, just to get to me. He made it look like a kidnapping, had her tortured for a week before she was saved. Knowing that... that it was Palpatine who made that decision? Sorry, we're not friends anymore," he said, though his eyes were still filled with the echoes of sudden, shocking betrayal.

Yoda nodded. "Very well. Going, we all are. The strength of many, we will need. Light over Darkness. Fooled us all, Sidious did," he said, his words bitter. "To him, this battle we will take!"

The agreement made, the Jedi began to leave the chamber, preparing to fight an enemy they knew almost nothing about, save the face he had shown them for two decades. Qui-Gon watched them go, putting a hand on Mace's arm when the other Master would have walked past him. "A moment."

Mace glanced at him, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Of course, Qui-Gon."

"Are you still going to be so quick to kill him, Mace?" Qui-Gon demanded of the other Councilor. "There seems to be much going on that we don't know about."

"It's what he wants, Qui-Gon," Mace replied, his gaze stern.

"It's what he wanted six years ago, and it was foolish even then!"

"Qui-Gon, I know that he was once your Padawan, but that man is gone. We..." Mace closed his eyes, his expression pained. "I all but signed his death warrant, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that. But we cannot assume that he has done all of this in good faith! We have to assume the worst, that Venge wants Palpatine out of the way so that he can claim power for himself!"

Qui-Gon stepped away, shaking his head. "I know that, Mace. I do. I just cannot help but feel there is more to all of this."

"I agree, but until we know what that is, we don't have a whole lot of options, Qui-Gon. I promise you this. We will stop the Sith. I don't know if that will mean death for Venge. But we will stop him."

He lay on the floor, nerves still twitching from too much electricity and too little rest. The Sith Lord was coming, returning to the home that he had hidden from the galaxy. He had time, though every few moments another surge would take him, leaving him curled up on the floor, wracked with pain and unable to fight back. Projecting the illusion from the distance he had just managed, across light years... he was exhausted, and it had left him defenseless against his Master's wrath.

The lightning came through the bond he had with his Master, and it was an abhorrent thing that gave Sidious the means to hurt him when little else did. The bond would die with Sidious soon... or he would die. One way or the other, Sidious's last hold on him would be gone.

He could not move to do more than twitch his fingers, and his breath came in harsh gasps, but he could still touch the Force. He had worked hard to maintain that connection no matter what Sidious did to him, no matter how much of his flesh was laid open. No matter how much he'd screamed.

He used it now, activating the communications array built into the wall with another flick of his fingers. A holographic image appeared, displaying a clone with the stripes of a commanding officer on his white armor. "Commander Cody," he rasped.

The clone wasn't surprised to hear from him, for they had spoken on multiple occasions. Their meetings had gone undiscovered even by the Jedi whom Cody served with. "Sir. What can I do for you?"

He licked dry lips, trying to coat his mouth and throat with moisture so that his voice would be clear. "In the event that the Supreme Commander of the Republic Army is removed from office, who is next in command?"

Cody hesitated, no doubt searching his memory as he accessed the thousands of orders and special protocols the Kaminoans had, all unknowing, programmed into the clone army. "Ah. Right. That would be you, sir," he said, saluting him through the holo. If the clone was concerned with the fact that he was addressing a prone commanding officer, he kept it to himself.

He smiled, felt his lip split and bleed. "Rescind Orders Sixty-Six and Forty-Seven. Order Sixty-Six is now an invalid command line. Anyone caught trying to carry out Order Sixty-Six is to be terminated with extreme prejudice. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Cody replied. "I will pass the message on to the others. Order Sixty-Six is invalid. If Order Forty-Seven is rescinded, do I have permission to put a team together to deal with the Separatist leaders?"

Order Forty-Seven had saved the Separatist leadership multiple times, for it was that order which kept them from being hit by the clones who were ostensibly fighting against them. "Yes, Commander. Take whatever forces you and the other commanders deem necessary. There are hidden bases on Mustafar and Utapau. Wipe them out. No one is to be left alive."

"Sir," Cody replied. "We will begin immediately."

"One last thing," he said, gritting his teeth as Sidious sent a fresh wave of agony through his body. The whisper in the back of his mind was getting closer. "Initiate Protocol Jenth... Isk... Nern... Nin. You know what to... what to do."

"Yes, sir. Do you require assistance, sir?" Cody asked, when he could do nothing more than lie there, a scream lodged in his throat. Closer.

"No," he ground out. "Just do what I've asked, Commander. Out."

"Sir." Cody saluted once more before cutting the transmission.

He stretched out his hands onto cool black stone, spent. The last step had been taken, the last piece placed. The long game of dejarik was near its end.

It took three days to navigate the treacherous paths of the Deep Core, and those were three days too many. Qui-Gon went to Anakin to see if his Padawan could shorten their route, but Anakin had shaken his head. "Maybe if we had more time, Master," he'd said, staring at the nav-comp readouts. "But there is so much crammed into so little space here. Even I'm not that good."

Qui-Gon had nodded, giving his former (and final, he knew) Padawan a smile. "It was worth a try."

Anakin wasn't fooled. "Master, he'll be all right. Palpatine has to travel the same distance we do. We'll get there."

Now they had arrived, the streaks of hyperspace reverting back to single points of white as he watched from his position behind Anakin's piloting station. If there was a dark center to the universe, Byss was it. The planet seemed to glow with blue-green radiance, and would have been beautiful but for the Dark energies that they could all feel. Even Padmé's mouth twisted in distaste when she saw it, and her hand dropped to the swell of her stomach as if to soothe the infants she carried.

They had the strength of the full Council and the Chosen One with them. If that wasn't enough to destroy a Sith Lord, then Qui-Gon feared for the fate of the galaxy.

Byss had two continents, though one was so barren that the ship's sensors refused to admit life could exist there. There was a fortress built in the northern mountains of the other, as Venge had said, guarded by a contingent of clone troopers. All of them were marked with the blue stripes that denoted their status as the Chancellor's royal guard. With stealth and silence the Jedi dispatched them all, and no broadcasts were made that would betray their presence. That wouldn't matter, though. Qui-Gon looked up at the bleak red and black walls that comprised the exterior of Palpatine's towering base, knowing that the Sith would have sensed their presence the moment they came out of hyperspace.

Mace must have come to the same conclusion, and as they gathered together in the open entryway of the citadel, he gave Qui-Gon a concerned look. "You know this has to be a trap."

"Of course it is," he replied, his thumb brushing over the activation switch on his lightsaber. "The trouble comes in knowing which part to spring first."

"So let's just spring all of it," Anakin said, giving them a wry grin. "If Venge was telling the truth, there's only one Sith in there we need to worry about. There are thirteen Jedi here, plus one angry woman with a blaster." Padmé mock-glared at Anakin and elbowed him in the ribs. He winced before continuing. "If he's stuck trying to deal with all of us at once, then he might make a mistake."

The Jedi glanced around at each other. "I've heard worse plans," Shaak Ti said, giving Anakin an amused look.

"We don't even know what the hell we're dealing with, to be honest. When's the last time any of us fought a Sith Lord?" Agen Kolar sputtered a laugh when Qui-Gon, Anakin, Mace, and Yoda all raised their hands, ready to provide dates and details. "All right, stupid question. A better question would be this: Do any of us know what to expect from a Sith Lord that's supposedly over a century old and has trained at least three Apprentices?"

"Power, the Sith wields," Yoda said at last, staring into the dark recesses of Palpatine's base. "Darkness, we should expect. Danger in all things. Prepare for this, we can, for Jedi we are. The Force is our ally, the Light is our strength. Stand against the Light, the Sith cannot."

As one, they stood up and walked into the citadel, grim-faced, pacing down the narrow entry corridor. The corridor ended, and they entered a great room that spanned many meters in every direction. The ceiling was somewhere far above their heads, but banners hung down from it, red and black, and the red flags were like swaths of bright blood. The citadel was silent except for their footfalls, the sounds echoing through the dark.

Qui-Gon glanced around and saw doors and corridors leading off in different directions. Then he ignited his lightsaber against the pervading gloom, casting light upon the floor that they stood on. His skin crawled as he took in the Sith sigils that wrapped in a large, tight spiral beneath their feet. "Can anyone read that?" he asked.

"Who the fuck would want to?" Micah retorted, as he and the others began to ignite their own lightsabers, casting vibrant light against the shadows. "Giving me a headache just looking at it."

Qui-Gon glanced away, feeling the sudden ache in his skull ease. "He's right. Don't try it."

Anakin looked at him from across the spiral, his eyes wide. "I can sense him."

Then they all could - the dark presence filled the air, coated the breaths they took in slime, made them feel as if they were being crushed by extreme pressure.

Yoda took a deep breath and let it out, his face serene. "Too old am I for such tricks," he muttered, and Qui-Gon smiled and wrapped himself in the Force, for it was their protection. He could sense the others doing the same, Anakin shining the brightest of them all. He was glad for that, for once Qui-Gon had feared his Padawan would not be able to rise above the darkness that he had fought against most of his life.

"Go, we should," Yoda said, and now held his ignited lightsaber in one hand, his gimer stick in the other. "Seek Lord Sidious, we do."

The Jedi stepped forward, ready to follow Yoda, who now seemed to have an idea of where they needed to go. Qui-Gon took a step and then halted, something whispering on the edge of his consciousness. He turned his head, staring at the passageways to the south. He knew that whisper, had chased it through his dreams and across wastelands. "Obi-Wan," he breathed.

Micah's hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned to stare into his lifelong friend's worried eyes. "Qui-Gon, are you sure?"

He nodded. "Certain. I need to go."

Mace gave him an irritated look. "Qui-Gon, we can deal with Venge later. Sidious is our priority."

"And Venge is my responsibility," Qui-Gon retorted. That whisper was maddening, told him nothing other than the fact that Venge's presence lay in that direction. He could very well be walking into another trap, but he could not ignore that whisper. He could not ignore the blue flash he had seen, lost for years beneath the amber.

"I'll go with him," Micah offered. "At least it keeps us from having to face two Sith at once."

"I'll go, too," Anakin began, but Qui-Gon held up his hand, gesturing for silence.

"No." When he would have argued, Qui-Gon smiled. "Give us ten minutes. If we do not rejoin you in that time, then you can come and find out what's keeping us so long. Deal?"

Anakin shook his head. "You would pick now to start being reasonable, wouldn't you, Master? You've got ten minutes before I come looking for you, and you'd better still be in one piece!"

Micah was steps behind him as they navigated dark halls together, ascending stairs, following the whisper that only Qui-Gon could hear. Sidious's base had been here several years, for there were mature, well-tended gardens behind closed doors, along with combat arenas that were built to be open to the sky. He'd counted two libraries so far, what looked like a meeting room, and several bedchambers. There was nothing here that had not been touched by darkness - even the plants were twisted by it, for though they grew and flourished, they were not pleasant things to look at.

They encountered no staff, no people of any sort. That made Qui-Gon leery, for a domicile this massive had to have a veritable army to take care of it. He could feel that there had been many beings here, recently, but where had they gone?

"I smell blood," Micah said, and Qui-Gon repressed a shiver. He could smell it, too, the hint of old blood dancing through the air, teasing him with the hint of destruction.

Then the whispering grew clear, and the blood that he could smell was fresh. He stopped before one final, closed door, stomach clenched, because he did not know what he would find.

Micah was at his shoulder, a soothing, steady presence. "Open it, Qui-Gon. Force knows we've come this far."

Qui-Gon nodded and touched the control panel set into the wall, feeling a rush of dank air strike his face as the door hissed open. The scent of fresh blood grew stronger, coupled with the stink of humans pressed beyond their limits, sweat and foulness and rage and despair.

The room was empty save for a lone occupant, strung up by the wrists from a ceiling joist, his bare feet just brushing the stone floor. Qui-Gon caught the glimmer of copper hair in the dim light and his heart seized. He stepped closer, horrified, aware that Micah had stopped in the doorway.

Venge was covered in so many wounds he may as well have been wearing a shirt made of blood. The dark pants he wore were his only clothing, and even those were shredded, revealing flayed flesh.

Qui-Gon shut down his lightsaber and dropped it from almost nerveless fingers as he rushed forward and touched the Force, releasing the too-tight shackles that bound Venge's wrists. Qui-Gon caught the smaller man, stunned by the lightness of him, for beneath the blood was the frame of a man who had gone from being too slender to being rail-thin. His body slumped, boneless, in Qui-Gon's arms as he carefully lowered Venge to the floor. He brushed his hands through disheveled copper, and found even Venge's hair was tacky with blood.

Qui-Gon felt for a pulse in his neck and sighed in relief as he felt a regular, if faint, heartbeat. His chest was rising and falling, the motion so slight it was barely noticeable. Then his fingers brushed something else, and he took a firm grip on the cool metal he felt. It buzzed beneath his fingers, but the buzz was louder in the Force. An inhibitor. Qui-Gon grimaced and pulled it free.

The response was astounding. Venge's eyes shot open, and he opened his mouth wide, gasping for air and lurching in Qui-Gon's arms. "Easy!" Qui-Gon soothed, trying to keep hold of the sorely wounded man he held. "Obi-Wan!"

Venge's head lolled back and forth, his eyes staring up at nothing. He almost slid out of Qui-Gon's grasp, his skin was so slick with blood, and Qui-Gon was afraid to hold on tightly, concerned he might hurt the man further. "Don't," Venge whispered, the word barely audible.

"Don't what? What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, leaning closer.

Venge's eyes locked on his, filled with sudden, startling lucidity. "Turn... around!" he gasped.

He was in motion in record time, on his feet and turning, calling his lightsaber back to his hand. He never made it; his lightsaber dropped to the floor inches from his hand.

It didn't hurt, and it should have. The green lightsaber pierced his abdomen, bringing heat, then cold, icy numbness. Qui-Gon gasped out a surprised, involuntary breath, and lifted his head, looking into Micah Giett's crazed hazel eyes.