Master Apprentice
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The door opened almost immediately after Qui-Gon keyed the chime. A slightly built, older man, dressed in a simple cream colored caftan, met him with a welcoming smile and a back slapping hug. "I was wondering if you were going to be able to fit me into your schedule this trip," he said jovially.
"Lee, you're the curator of the archive I've been sent to study. How could I avoid seeing you?" Qui-Gon responded teasingly.
"You know," Lee remarked as he stepped back to get a good look at his companion, "I believe you've grown!"
"Not true, old friend. It is you who has shrunk!" he replied, chuckling over their longstanding joke. When first they met, long ago on Coruscant, Qui-Gon had been a gangly adolescent. Then, Lee's teasing words seemed all too true, for Qui-Gon had grown by leaps and bounds until he towered over his agemates. Now, the difference in their heights was almost comical, the smaller man barely taller than Qui-Gon's waist.
"Well, come in, come in!" he ushered Qui-Gon into the common room of his quarters. They hadn't changed much, Qui-Gon noted, his sharp eyes roving around the room. Unlike the standard Jedi living space, which tended to run to straight lines, Spartan furniture and little if any color, Lee's common room spoke of the outdoors. The walls were painted a muted shade of green: soft, subtle and conducive to meditation. The furniture, in varying shades of tan and brown, was all gentle curves and plump, comfy pillows. Upon the open windowsill, a pair of Devinnian lovebirds, resplendent in their purple plumage, cooed softly as they preened each other.
Qui-Gon crossed the room to take a peek at the painting resting there on an easel. The canvas bore a representation of the landscape as seen from Lee's window. The distant mountain range, its peaks glistening with snow, provided a lovely backdrop. In the foreground, Lee had captured the image of the two doves whispering sweet nothings to each other. "How I envy you your talent, Lee."
"Nonsense," the older man replied briskly as he bustled into the kitchen, intent upon finding some refreshments for his guest. "It is I who should be envious. I can capture a moment of nature's beauty with my brush. But you, Qui, I've seen your drawings. You make them come to life, as if you have tapped into the Living Force and imbued them with a spirit all their own. Of the two, I'd much rather have your talent."
He returned with a tray bearing two glasses of a ruby-colored liquid and a plate of cookies. He placed it on the low table before the sofa. With a smile, he gestured for his friend to be seated. Bowing slightly, Qui-Gon did so. Lee offered him one of the glasses. "Don't think you can fool me. I know that this is why you really came here, Qui," he teased gently.
Qui-Gon took a small sip from his glass, allowing the liquid to roll over his tongue for a moment before he swallowed it. Kiski juice, brewed from a berry that was indigenous to Devinnar 3, was a rarity in all the Republic. The liquid reacted differently to each being's body chemistry and stimulated the consumer's most favorable taste centers. So, for each person, its flavor was unique. Luckily, it bore no intoxicating effects on the user. Otherwise, Devinnar 3 would have been overrun with entrepreneurs long ago.
Lee took a seat in the chair opposite Qui-Gon, his beverage held carelessly in one hand. "I was sorry to hear about Bruck, Qui. I know how hard it is to lose a Padawan in combat."
Qui-Gon nodded his thanks, unwilling to trust his voice.
"I understand you have taken a new apprentice, that he is here with you. I'd like to meet the boy."
"I'm sure that can be arranged."
The old man sat back in his chair, studying his friend's face. "You look tired, Qui."
The Jedi Master waved the idea off. "I haven't been sleeping well, that's all."
"That's an odd thing for a Jedi to admit," Lee said, but he didn't pursue the subject. He swirled his kiski juice, holding the glass up to the rays of afternoon sun slanting through the window. "And I heard you brought someone besides your Padawan with you."
"Yes," Qui-Gon's replied, grateful for the change of topic. "A young man that we discovered on Retep. His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"You're taking him back to Coruscant with you?" Lee asked. At Qui-Gon's nod, he continued. "Why?"
"He was a Jedi, an initiate that had been assigned to Agricorps. Somewhere along the line, he was kidnapped. Sold into slavery."
"Why didn't I hear about this?" Lee leaned forward, deeply disturbed.
"I don't know," the Jedi Master said glumly. "But I hope to get some answers when we get back to the Temple."
A deep silence rose up between them. Qui-Gon, lost in his thoughts, did not notice Lee's careful study of him. At last, the old man spoke. "Why do you feel guilty, Qui?"
The other man started, then forced himself to relax. Sometimes, though not often, he forgot about his old friend's empathic abilities. There was no sense in denying Lee's observation. "Because it was my fault he was sent to Agricorps in the first place."
"Meaning?"
"I could have chosen him to be my Padawan. Master Yoda urged me to do so. I even felt the Force directing me to take him. But I chose Bruck instead," Qui-Gon explained.
"Ah," Lee said, then was silent for a moment. "Well, then, your feelings of guilt are reasonable, perhaps even justified. But how will focusing on your guilt help Obi-Wan?"
Qui-Gon stewed over the question for a brief time, then offered the older man a sheepish grin. "You have me there, Lee." His smile disappeared as he continued, glad to have the council of such a wise Jedi. "He has so much anger in him, most of it directed at me. He's wearing a Force-inhibitor, and carrying many physical as well as emotional scars, so I've tried to be patient with him. But frankly, I'm at a loss."
"Most of the Temple has sensed his anger, but I believe it is his fear manifesting itself. Think about it, Qui. The boy has lived in fear for almost half of his life. And he's been cut off from the Force that entire time as well. Can you imagine the amount of psychic pain that would inflict on a Force-sensitive being? I'm surprised he hasn't gone totally mad!"
"He thinks we're mad, did you know that? His first owner told him that Force sensitivity was a mental disorder, that his collar was a cure." Qui-Gon took another sip of his drink.
"I think there's a bit of truth to that," Lee chuckled.
"Perhaps." Qui-Gon gave him a half grin. "Still, I don't know what to do with him."
"I would suggest that you continue to be patient and understanding. He has a lot of issues to face in the next few tendays. Not the least of which is what is to become of him? He's a slave no longer, but that may add to his worries, rather than relieve them. At least before, he never had to worry about the future. His life is in a dramatic state of flux right now." Lee snagged a cookie and began munching on it. "Give him time to deal with the changes."
"I shall do my best," he said, running one hand over his beard. "But there are times that I swear he is deliberately trying to provoke me."
"I imagine he's testing your limits, trying to determine how far he can push you," Lee offered. "Being patient and understanding doesn't mean you aren't allowed to set some rules. And enforce them if necessary."
"You are right, my friend." Qui-Gon took one of the cookies from the plate and popped it in his mouth.
"In the meanwhile, I think you should give some thought to your role in Obi-Wan's life. Are you merely his rescuer? Or, are you considering trying to get him reinstated into the Order?"
A slight frown creased Qui-Gon's brow. "I'd thought about it," he admitted.
"The boy washed out," Lee reminded him, not unkindly. "He didn't finish his training, because he wasn't good enough. And now, you want to force him back into that mold? It's wrong, Qui."
The tall man sighed. "You're probably right."
Lee tilted his head, looking at Qui-Gon closely. "It is possible that you are intended to form a deeper, more lasting relationship with him." He paused to allow Qui-Gon to consider his words. "You cannot take him as an apprentice, but that doesn't mean you can't be his friend, champion his cause."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes, allowing his head to drop back against the upright of the sofa. He sighed deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
"He will need an advocate, Qui. Who better to serve him in this way than you?"
Qui-Gon nodded. "That is my hope as well, Lee."
"And now, to the real issue that brings you to my door," Lee said, setting his empty glass down. "You've come to study our files on the Sith."
"Yes," Qui-Gon said, putting his concerns for Obi-Wan aside for the moment. "It was a Sith that killed my Padawan, but we know so little about them. For instance, why can there be only two? What drives them? Do Sith start out as Dark Side users, or can anyone be turned? How does a Sith select an apprentice, and is it true that the apprentice eventually kills off his Master? And, how did they rise again without the Jedi being aware of it?"
Lee nodded slowly. "Yes, they are serious questions, with long-reaching consequences, which is why the files have been secreted away here, in this protected sanctuary. Hopefully, the files this Temple protects will hold your answers." He rose and gestured toward the door with one hand. "Shall we examine them and see?"
Lee led his friend down through the catacombs of the Temple. Winding passageways, cool and dry, heard the echo of their footsteps. At last, the pair stopped before a seemingly solid rock wall. Lee touched a number of the bricks with his hands, then called upon the Force to complete the sequence necessary to open the door. An opening appeared before them as the walls slid to either side. Lee pulled a focused beam torch from his utility belt and searched for the light control. At last he found it and tripped the switch.
Overhead, a series of lights began to glow and flicker sluggishly, before brightening and becoming steady. Qui looked around the small room, making a quick inventory of his surroundings. The perimeter of the chamber was lined with shelves, filled with ancient paper-leaved tomes. Qui-Gon, who had always gotten a sensual satisfaction from any book that he could hold and feel and smell, should have been thrilled. This archive, however, represented hate and misery at its worst.
The room had been well protected over the ages. The builders had taken great care to ensure the survival of these records. There was very little dust on the shelves or on the table which graced the center of the room. Qui-Gon crossed to the table and placed his datapad on its surface before he moved to one of the bookcases. The spines of the books, all bound in leather, bore no titles. They were instead numbered and arranged sequentially.
"Is there some kind of index?" he asked Lee as he traced his fingers over the embossed lettering on one of the books.
"Yes, the master curator who oversaw the storage of these volumes compiled a rather extensive index and cross-referencing system," Lee answered. He went to the far corner of the room and touched a view screen imbedded in the wall there. The unit flashed, then came online. "It takes a while to load, I'm afraid. Old technology. Force knows what we will do if it breaks down. I don't have access to any parts to repair it."
"Shouldn't you update the system then?" Qui-Gon suggested as he pulled one of the books from the shelf and took it to the table. The chairs were of a simple, straight-backed design. Not conducive to long periods of studying the archive records, Qui-Gon thought. He wondered if perhaps that wasn't an intentional decision on the part of the original archivists. There was inherent danger in the study of these documents. Should an individual not be strongly grounded in the Light, he might be tempted by the knowledge and power revealed to him. Qui-Gon took a moment to center himself in the Force, then opened the book.
The frontispiece of the book bore an unusual inscription. It had been written in a firm script, though the ink was fading with age. It read simply, "May the powers of the Light shield you from the evil within these leaves."
Qui-Gon started to turn the page, only to be stopped by a withered old hand covering his own. He looked up at his companion in puzzlement.
"Wait," Lee instructed softly. He closed his eyes and drew upon the Force. Qui-Gon felt its invisible presence surround and envelope him. At last, the older man opened his eyes and released his grip on Qui-Gon's hand. "I want you to tell me about this attacker first. What do you know?"
"That he is a Zabrak, from the planet of Iridonia," Qui-Gon replied. "Zabraks mark their young with facial tattoos. The color and pattern denote their clan affiliation."
Lee nodded his understanding, but waited for Qui-Gon to continue.
"The Council sent a Knight to Iridonia. She was to find the clan of origin and see if they had any clues as to the individual's identity," he told the other man.
"What did she find?"
"Something most curious," Qui-Gon replied. "She was told that the Rulu clan, those bearing the red and black facial tattoos, were all killed by a plague twenty years ago."
"All of them?" Lee asked incredulously. "But that's almost impossible! In any outbreak of disease, there are at least a few individuals who are immune."
"That's true," Qui-Gon agreed. "But Knight Selasa was able to speak with a couple of people who had discovered the Camp of Death, as they called it. All of the bodies bore signs of some sort of pox. There were no survivors."
"So, I guess that's one of the questions we need to answer. Did the Sith have the capability of introducing and accelerating diseases?" Lee picked up the datapad and entered some notes. "Okay, so you were not able to determine his identity. What can you tell me about his weapon?"
"When I first encountered him, on Tatooine, I thought he was using a standard lightsaber, though the hilt was longer than any I had seen before," the Jedi Master told him. "But when Bruck and I engaged him on Naboo, he triggered a second blade. It came out of what would normally be the base of the lightsaber."
Lee leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and laying one finger against his pursed lips. "Let me guess, the blade was a deep blood red?"
"How did you know?" Qui-Gon asked incredulously.
"I've seen the schematics for just such a weapon in one of these books," Lee said as he rose and went to one of the shelves, his fingers dancing over the books before he found the one he sought. He withdrew it and brought it to the table, allowing it to fall open before him. He quickly flipped the pages, searching rapidly. At last, he turned the book and slid it across the table to Qui-Gon. There, on the pages of that book, was a finely sketched drawing of the weapon that had killed his apprentice.
Qui-Gon drew in a sharp breath, feeling as if he had been punched in the gut. "Yes, that's it!"
"And only a Draconian ruby can supply the amount of energy it requires." Lee leaned forward to touch his fingertip to the text on the page. "See? It says so, right here."
"Listen to this," Qui-Gon said, then began reading aloud, "The Draconian ruby, highly prized by the Sith, is found only on the planet Draco Prime. It is unique for two reasons. First, it supplies sufficient energy to power a double-bladed lightsaber. Second, and most importantly, its energy can only be harnessed by users of the Dark side of the Force. In the hands of a proponent of the Light, the jewel is inert."
He paused to digest what he had read, then asked his companion, "Where is Draco Prime?"
"I have no idea," the old man replied, shaking his head. "I've never been able to track down any other references to it. It may be called by another name, perhaps."
"Add that to the list of questions." Qui-Gon nodded toward the datapad resting by Lee's elbow.
"Where is Draco Prime?" Lee muttered as he entered it into the datapad. When he finished, he looked at his chrono, "Sorry, my friend, but we must finish up here. I've got a meeting that I must attend in a little while."
Qui-Gon looked up, his brows drawn together. "But we've only just arrived. Couldn't I keep working?"
"Um, no," the old man shook his head. "It isn't permitted. You must be accompanied by a senior archivist or higher when accessing these records. It is for your own protection, you know. We have to monitor your reactions, make sure you are not unduly affected by any of this --- material."
"I understand," Qui-Gon nodded, then gave a wry smile. "I had best be getting back anyway. If I leave Anakin alone much longer, he'll have the cooling unit in our quarters disassembled and made into some kind of droid when I get back. And who knows what kind of trouble Obi-Wan could get into."
Lee chuckled as he replaced the books upon their respective shelves, then keyed the lights. "We'll return tomorrow. I'll make sure you get plenty of time in here, Qui, never fear."
Obi-Wan looked up as the Jedi Master returned, shedding his robe as he came through the door. Anakin leaped to his feet and took his robe from him, hanging it upon a conveniently placed hook on the wall. Obi-Wan felt a touch of jealousy as the older man rubbed his large palm over the boy's spiky haircut, offering him a gentle smile.
Turning, Jinn tossed the paper-wrapped package he carried in Obi-Wan's direction. "Clothes," he said, his critical gaze running over the young man. "Civilian clothes. Hopefully these will suit you more than the last ones, and be more appropriate than what you're wearing."
Obi-Wan caught the bundle out of the air and returned the look with a dark one of his own. "It's not like I had any choice," he grumbled.
Jinn sighed. "No. Of course you didn't."
"Master!" Anakin piped in. "Obi-Wan helped me practice that kata you showed me yesterday." He grabbed Qui-Gon by the hand and led him to a chair, urging him to sit. "Watch!" He assumed the beginning pose of the kata, moving smoothly through its maneuvers and culminating with a step onto his left foot and the extension of his right leg. However, he didn't quite manage the balance part of the move. With a wobble, Anakin lost his balance and tumbled to the floor with a laugh.
"Very good, my Padawan," Jinn praised. "I'm surprised you remembered so much of it. That last part is fairly difficult, but I believe it won't take you long to master it."
"I couldn't remember what came after the body roll, until Obi-Wan reminded me. He even showed me the right way to do it, but he hurt himself," Anakin explained.
"You're injured?" Jinn frowned his concern, turning in his seat to look at Obi-Wan.
"It's nothing." the young man shook his head, concentrating on untying the bundle of clothes.
"Stand up," Jinn ordered as he rose from his seat. When the other man hesitated, he took the package from his hand and tossed it aside, then grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. "Now, where are you hurting?"
"I'm not--"
"Right here, Master," Anakin interjected, poking one small finger into Obi-Wan's groin. Jinn placed his hand over the affected area, gently probing with his fingertips until he located the most sensitive spot. Obi-Wan tensed and tried to pull away, but the Master kept his steely grip on the young man's wrist. "Hold still!"
Jinn closed his eyes and pressed his fingers harder into the pulled muscle. Obi-Wan winced at the pressure, hissing through his teeth as he fought the pain. Then, a tingling warmth seemed to move from the older man's fingertips and into his body. The tension in his face eased as the pain gradually abated, only to be replaced by the fierce warmth of arousal.
Obi-Wan felt the rush of heat color his cheeks as his cock hardened under the other man's touch. There was no way Jinn could fail to notice his body's reaction. When the pain had disappeared, Obi-Wan slipped his free hand over Jinn's intimately placed one and pressed his cock into the large palm. Jinn opened his eyes at the young man's touch. His indigo eyes darkened noticeably as the other man subtly rocked his hips, thrusting into the Jedi Master's palm.
Their eyes remained locked for a moment longer before the younger man pushed the Master's hand away. "Thank you --- I, uh, I think I'll go for a walk. I could use some air," Obi-Wan said, his voice hoarse with suppressed desire.
"Can I go with you?" Anakin asked eagerly.
"Padawan, it's 'May I go with you,' and no, you've got lessons to attend to," Jinn told the boy, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's face. He acknowledged the younger man's brief nod of thanks with a slight bow of his own. "The north gardens are said to be exceptionally beautiful."
Obi-Wan nodded silently. New clothes forgotten, he snatched up the oversized tunic and slipped out into the corridor. He somehow managed to find his way through the Temple's labyrinth and out into the sunshine. It felt so strange, he thought as he followed the footpath weaving its way through the northern garden. He could not remember the last time he had been afforded such freedom. Obviously, Jinn thought his chances for escape were pretty small.
It was a fairly primitive planet, Obi-Wan recalled the Jedi Master telling Anakin. Its main attractions were the spectacular sunsets and the unusually powerful thunderstorms, with their brilliant lightning displays. One such storm had rolled through earlier that morning, but the cloud cover had dissipated. Perhaps tonight he would get a chance to really study the sunset. Now that he was allowed out alone, he could truly marvel over its beauty without fear of anyone seeing him. And perhaps he could explore his conflicting emotions where Jinn was concerned.
Why are you even giving him a second thought, Kenobi? he asked himself angrily. The man is a lying bastard, just like all the Jedi. He's not to be trusted, no matter how gentle and kind and honorable --- no! Stop that!
Focused inward, Obi-Wan followed the trail without thought. He rounded a sharp curve and nearly stumbled over a pair of feet blocking his path. They belonged to a being whose upper torso was buried in the twiggy confines of a slightly squashed bush.
"Tribbetz their time, anyway!" a voice sounded from within the shrub. "All this talk about connecting with the Living Force, and what do they do? They go traipsing through my brueggerbushes!"
"Are... are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked hesitantly. The quaking of the bushes ceased for a moment.
"Who's there?" the voice rang out again.
"My name is Obi-Wan," the young man said.
"Obi-Wan? I've never heard of anyone by that name at this temple," the small man said as he began backing out of the bush on his hands and knees. He rocked back onto his heels as he plucked twigs and leaves from his silvered hair. His eyes took a quick inventory of the young man, noting his attire, his skinny build and pale skin, then lingered on the Force-inhibiting collar he wore around his neck. "Nope, I think it's safe to say you're not one of our regular Jedi."
"No, I'm not." Obi-Wan shook his head, then quickly moved to the old man's side when he held up his hand for assistance.
"Strange, isn't it, how much easier it is to get down than to get up," the old man chuckled as he struggled to his feet. With a quick glance at his companion, he added, "You wouldn't know about that yet, would you, young Obi-Wan?"
A half smile upon his lips, he shook his head.
"Now, then," the old man said, wiping his grimy hands upon his trousers before extending one in greeting, "My name is Maligo."
Obi-Wan felt himself warming to the kindness and good humor he saw in Maligo's hazel eyes. As he placed his hand in the other's, he asked, "Are you the gardener?"
"You could say that," Maligo chuckled. He stooped to retrieve his box of tools. "I do lots of things around here. There's always some project that needs my special attention."
The pair began to stroll along the graveled path. The sun blazed gloriously above them as they rounded another turn. A bench had been placed in a secluded nook just off the path. Maligo led the younger man to it. "Sit with me for a while."
"All right," Obi-Wan agreed, lowering himself with care. Though he felt no lingering pain from his injury, he didn't want to take any chances.
"So, Obi-Wan, what's your story? You're not a Jedi, that much is evident," the old man observed quietly. His tone and manner were strangely soothing to the young man.
"No, I'm not a Jedi," he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon his knees, his hands dangling idly between them.
"So, how did you get here?"
"I was purchased by a Jedi at a slave auction," he replied, his gaze focused on the distant sky. "On Retep, I think."
"You were a slave? But slavery is illegal in the Rep--" Maligo paused when Obi-Wan snorted derisively. "Ah. I see you don't set much store in Republic law."
"Doesn't seem like it ever made a difference for me."
"And they always tell Jedi that theirs will be a hard life. They have no concept." Maligo leaned forward, unconsciously assuming a similar position to that of his counterpart. "I 'spect you could tell them a thing or two, huh?"
Obi-Wan nodded, a wry grin ghosting across his countenance. He sighed deeply, his gaze dropping to examine the minute variations of sand and gravel in the path at his feet.
"Well, young man, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here just about every day at this time, and usually in the evenings, too. This is a great place to watch the sunsets. And I wouldn't mind the company." He leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, "Sometimes being surrounded by Jedi gets tiresome, know what I mean?"
Obi-Wan chuckled, nodding again, as the older man clapped one hand upon his shoulder companionably. "Don't stay out here too long. Noon meal is being served in refectory and you, young man, look like you could use a good meal or two. Good day," Maligo said as he gathered up his tools and set off along the path.
Watching as his companion departed, Obi-Wan felt a curious sensation in his heart. He frowned in concentration as he tried to identify it. Maligo, quiet and unassuming, had unknowingly given Obi-Wan comfort. With dawning realization, he recognized the ache for what it was: hope. Perhaps this gentle soul was someone he could trust.
During a break in the Senate proceedings, Palpatine slipped quietly away from his compatriots and returned to his private study. Once within its heavily shielded walls, he closed his eyes and reached out to that young mind on Devinnar 3. As soon as he touched it, he frowned.
Contentment? Hope? Was that what he was sensing from the former slave? He couldn't quite ascertain the cause, but the emotions were clear enough. His frown deepened. No. This would never do.
He strengthened the connection, pouring dark, hateful thoughts into that receptive mind. You cannot trust the Jedi, he sent, Qui-Gon Jinn, especially. He will betray you again, and this time you do not have youth and beauty to help you survive. No, you are tired and scarred. You've been used until the freshness is gone.
He could feel Kenobi's emotions shifting again, and smiled malevolently as he continued. You are nothing to him. You are a disgrace to the Jedi Order. He wishes only to put you away, where you cannot be seen, cannot be found. You must not stay with him.
Palpatine opened his eyes, a small smile still tugging at his mouth. Kenobi was remarkable easy to manipulate. Soon, he would cease to be a problem.
Obi-Wan followed a line of dark brown robes into the large refectory, his mouth watering as the scent of some kind of roasted meat wafted to him. He shifted impatiently from one foot to the other as the line inched forward. His impatience turned into full-fledged frustration as the line suddenly came to a dead stop.
High in a distant bell tower, three chimes rang out crisply. As one, the Jedi all knelt and pulled their hoods up over their heads. Their voices rang out together as they began to recite a litany that Obi-Wan had not heard in years.
"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."
He did not expect the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. How many years had he recited those words, believed in their simple truth? Tears filled his eyes as he longed to be that innocent boy once again. The helpless grief over all he had lost quickly changed to anger. Anger at his own weakness and anger at the damned Jedi for making him feel something he hadn't felt in years -- an absurd sense of belonging.
With a disgruntled snort, he wove his way through the crowd of kneeling Jedi. He picked up a tray and began noisily loading it with meat and vegetables. He felt dozens of pairs of eyes drilling into his back as he moved down the buffet, but he did not stop. He gathered up some eating utensils and a napkin before turning to face his audience.
His gaze roamed over the crowd, noting the stern looks of disapproval on many of their faces. Unerringly, his attention was drawn to the broad shoulders of the Jedi who had brought him here. The dark look that Jinn shot his way gave Obi-Wan pause. Even Anakin, only a Jedi for a little over a year, looked embarrassed by Obi-Wan's flaunting of Jedi tradition.
Unable to bear their silent accusations any longer, Obi-Wan asked the crowd at large, "What?!" No one answered, though all continued to stare. "Fuck you!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "And fuck your damn Force!"
It seemed to free them from their frozen positions. All over the great room, Jedi rose and pushed back their hoods. Some resumed their meals, others took up unfinished conversations. Jinn moved quickly to Obi-Wan's side. He took the tray from the younger man and placed it on a nearby table. Then he wrapped one large hand around Obi-Wan's upper arm and forcibly removed him from the refectory.
Anakin followed them out the door but drew up short at Jinn's barked command, "Go finish your meal, Anakin!"
"Hey!" Obi-Wan began to struggle, setting his heels obstinately. But Jinn was stronger. "Hey! Let me go!"
Jinn pulled Obi-Wan into a secluded alcove and turned to face him. He spun Obi-Wan around and slammed the younger man against the wall, pinning him there with both hands.
"I'm only going to say this once, so listen well," he said in a quiet voice, all the more intimidating because of the tight emotional control it conveyed. "I am sorry you've had such a rough time of it. But it cannot be changed. What's done is done. Now, I suggest you make the best of things. You are a guest here and, as such, I expect you to behave with a little common courtesy."
"Let me go, you cocksucker!" Obi-Wan shouted, struggling.
"It doesn't matter whether or not you share our beliefs, but while we are guests in this Temple, you will not air your personal views on the subject."
Jinn released him abruptly and Obi-Wan collapsed to the floor. "You son of a nerfherder!" he spat angrily.
The Jedi Master placed his hands upon his hips as he studied the prone man. "I would prefer you cease with the name calling."
"Oh, yeah? You piece of traybar dung, how are you gonna stop me? By beating me?" Obi-Wan jeered at him.
"No. Violence is the last resort, not a Jedi's first course of action. You should know that from your training."
"Pretty words, but they don't hold up in the real world." Obi-Wan sat up, moving as if to stand, and Jinn crouched in front of him, so close that the young man couldn't rise without physically moving him aside.
"I have a proposal for you," the Jedi said softly, his voice low and husky. "If you can get through this meal without any untoward behavior, I will reward you."
"Reward me?" Obi-Wan said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "With what? You don't have any possessions . . ."
Jinn dropped one knee to the floor and leaned in closer. He placed his hand on the wall beside Obi-Wan's head, cutting off any means of escape. His eyes roamed slowly down Obi-Wan's form, lingering on the growing bulge between the young man's legs. "Perhaps a kiss," he offered throatily, not raising his eyes.
Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "What makes you think that would be a reward?" he asked, his tone matching the Jedi's.
The dark blue eyes rose to meet Obi-Wan's challengingly. "My powers of observation tell me so. The way your eyes follow me when you think I'm not looking. The way your body reacts to me when I am near you." He stroked one hand briefly against the obvious bulge in Obi-Wan's leggings, and Obi-Wan felt his breath hitch in his chest. Jinn leaned in even closer, his breath touching Obi-Wan's lips. "The way your heart is pounding at this very moment."
Obi-Wan moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, suddenly wanting nothing more than to give in to his desire and taste the mouth so close to his own. The sound of a hesitant footstep was their only warning before a young sounding voice startled them both.
"Pardon me for intruding, Master, but is everything okay? Should I call a Healer?"
Obi-Wan leaned back as Jinn got to his feet, adjusting his clothes. He closed his eyes briefly, fighting embarrassment, and called on all his control to will his own body back under control. He saw the Jedi turn to meet the large brown eyes of a female Initiate.
"No, thank you," Jinn grated out. "Everything is fine." He nodded at her reassuringly, though her face flushed brightly as she glanced at Obi-Wan.
Oh, yes, the former slave thought. She knows what nearly happened here.
The girl gave a courteous half bow and hurried away, and Jinn turned to face him. "Now," the Jedi Master said, clearly trying to regain control of the situation, "would you like to eat, or would you prefer to return to our quarters?"
Obi-Wan had to summon up the glare he aimed at Jinn. "I want to eat," he announced. "But you can keep your fuckin --- um, your damn reward."
"As you wish. But I trust we won't have to have this discussion again." As Jinn watched, Obi-Wan literally fled back to the refectory without another word.
Master Yoda stumped slowly back to his quarters after a long session in the Council chambers. He had been distracted all day, plagued with thoughts about the young man that Qui-Gon had rescued.
Strong Kenobi is in the Force, he mused as he knelt on his meditation mat. Important he is. But, how? Seeking answers, he closed his eyes and opened himself to the Unifying Force. Slowly, images began to take shape in his mind.
At first, there were only roiling clouds of caustic, choking gray smoke. As it began to clear, he could see the ruins of the Coruscant temple. Bodies dressed in Jedi tunics and robes, littered the ground. Only two beings remained standing. One was a tall man, obviously a warrior, his horned head covered in vivid black and red tattoos. The other was smaller and slightly stooped his face concealed by a hood. They reeked of the Dark Side, swirls of sheer evil surrounding them as they surveyed the damage.
"Well done, my apprentice," the smaller of the two said. "The Jedi are no more, and we alone are left to rule the universe."
As Yoda watched, the scene shifted to the right, panning slowly across the ruins. The smoke thickened once again, and when it faded, Yoda found himself inside a small, modestly furnished apartment. Two men lay on the floor. One of them was face down and impossible to recognize, but the other was clearly Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was curled into a fetal position, hands clutching at his throat as if unable to breathe, his body writhing in agony.
As the scene continued to unfold, two other figures came into view. The dark, tattooed warrior and - Yoda felt his breath catch - Qui-Gon. They were engaged in a fierce lightsaber battle, and Qui-Gon was clearly weakening. Yoda watched, spellbound, as the Sith pressed his advantage, backing the Jedi slowly towards the corner of the room.
In one corner of Yoda's mind, a face swam into view. He looked down at Yoda with intense gray-green eyes. "I'm afraid," he said. "Afraid."
"What fear you?" Yoda heard himself asking.
The young man pointed toward the duel going on behind him. "Of losing him," he said.
The face disappeared, and the young man on the floor dragged himself to his feet. He stretched out a hand, and a discarded lightsaber flew into it, igniting with a flash of brilliant amber. "Nooooo!" Obi-Wan yelled, charging the tattooed man. A second later, it was all over. As the Sith fell to the floor, the scene panned quickly to the left. Yoda was afforded one last glimpse of the Temple, her towers pristine and undamaged under a cloudless Coruscant sky. As he watched, four figures in Jedi robes emerged.
One was Qui-Gon, his beard gone white with age. On one side of him was a mature Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had a solicitous hand on Qui-Gon's elbow as they descended the steps, and as Yoda watched, they exchanged a warm look. On Qui-Gon's other side was the tall, slender figure of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. Two steps behind and to the left of the young Knight walked an adolescent human female with a short Padawan's braid hanging from behind her ear.
Yoda surfaced from his meditation, not surprised to realize that several hours had passed. He pulled himself to his feet thoughtfully. Unclear, the future is, he told himself. But important is Kenobi. Within him lies the key. Protected, he must be.
Just before sunset of his second evening on Devinnar 3, Obi-Wan settled himself beside the trunk of a tremendous old tree. He took a bite of the tart green fruit he had stolen from the refectory at midmeal. Chewing slowly, he leaned his head back against the gnarled bark of the tree. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so rested, so well fed, so --- content.
"Well, there you are!" a voice interrupted his reverie. Obi-Wan found himself smiling into the twinkling hazel eyes of his companion from the night before, Maligo. "I was hoping you'd show up tonight. I've got some weeding to do, and it always goes quicker with more hands helping."
Obi-Wan popped the last bite of fruit into his mouth and, chewing, pushed himself to his feet. He dusted his hands together then offered them up with a small grin at the old man.
"Now that's what I like to see!" Maligo chuckled, leading the younger man to the section of the garden that needed their attention. "A lad who's not afraid of getting his hands dirty. You'd never see any of that lot out here helping me," he continued with a nod toward the temple. "They've got more worthy pursuits than a little gardening."
"I like the outdoors," Obi-Wan said quietly. "The garden is very beautiful, very peaceful."
"I'm glad you think so, Obi-Wan. I've put a lot of work into it over the years." The old man moved stiffly as he crouched down before the flowerbed.
"How long have you been here?" Obi-Wan asked as he took the trowel the man offered him.
"On Devinnar 3? Practically my whole life. My parents came here when I was a child. They seemed to like the naturalness of it all. So, I guess you could almost call me a native." His hands were busy as he talked. He tugged at the small weeds, occasionally pausing to touch the blossom of a flower, or to lovingly rearrange the course of some trailing vine. Obi-Wan's hands were not as sure or as accurate, but Maligo did not scold him. The old man seemed to need Obi-Wan's company far more than his help.
"I see your friend Jinn found you some clothes that fit you," he commented with a glance at the russet-haired man.
Obi-Wan plucked at the dark brown leggings and matching shirt absently. "He's not my friend." His expression turned sullen as he studiously avoided the old man's gaze. His comment caused Maligo to rock back on his heels, his dirty hands resting upon the soiled fabric of his leggings.
"He's not?" he asked, one brow quirked upward.
"No." Obi-Wan kept weeding.
"He rescued you from slavery. Doesn't that sort of qualify him to be your friend?"
"It was his fault I was a slave in the first place!" The angry retort burst from the young man's lips.
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"I was going to be a Jedi once," Obi-Wan began, his voice taking on a distant, haunted quality. "But, Jinn was my last chance for a Master, and he didn't want me." He tugged absently at the vine in his hand, uprooting it and sending dirt flying. "He said I was too angry!"
Maligo gently took the plant from him. "Now, why would he say that?" he asked.
His tone was casual, but his point was made. Obi-Wan actually flinched as he watched the old man carefully cleaning off snapped roots and replanting the damaged vine. "Yeah, well, I wasn't back then. Just desperate."
"So, you really wanted to be a Jedi," Maligo said softly. "Do you still want to?"
"No!" Obi-Wan shouted. Then, he purposely softened his tone. "No. I was delusional back then. I know better now."
"Is that so?"
"Yes." Obi-Wan rocked back onto his heels, turning one dirty hand through his long, tangled hair.
"And, what do you want now?" Maligo asked.
For a long moment, Obi-Wan was silent, considering the question. What did he want now? Unbidden, he felt his cock stir as Qui-Gon's image pressed to the front of his mind. No. He might not know what his future held, but that Jedi certainly wasn't in it. He took a deep breath, willing his body to reconsider. "Right now?" he said, trying for a lighter tone, "to finish this weeding so I can watch the sunset in peace."
"Sunsets and peace," Maligo chuckled. "We've got both in abundance, so help yourself."
"Obi-Wan."
The older man slipped his arms around Obi-Wan's waist and pulled him close. "You've been very good today. And it's time for your reward."
Obi-Wan's heart accelerated, pounding heavily in his chest as the Jedi lowered his mouth towards him. He leaned into him, tilting his head in anticipation of the sensual touch of the other man's lips. Slowly, so slowly, Jinn advanced. His breath danced across the moist flesh of Obi-Wan's lips, a feathery touch that set his blood on fire. It was...
"Obi-Wan."
It was a dream, the young man realized as he came awake. A pleasantly erotic dream, but a dream nonetheless. And the low voice that kept calling his name had interrupted it at a crucial moment. He listened intently, but kept his breathing slow and regular. Maybe if he feigned sleep, the intruder would leave him alone.
It didn't seem to be working.
"Obi-Wan," the voice came again, louder and a little more forceful this time. Resigning himself, he rolled over and looked toward the door.
Though the gray light of dawn was just beginning to creep through his window, Obi-Wan saw that Jinn was fully dressed. He had pulled back his hair and Obi-Wan caught a faint whiff of freshly washed skin. He sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily at his eyes, "What do you want?"
"Breakfast," the older man replied. Obi-Wan sighed glumly as he reached for the leggings he had discarded before slipping into bed.
"I think I ought to warn you, I'm a lousy cook," he said, his voice roughened from sleep.
"You misunderstand me," Jinn told him. "Breakfast is ready. Come eat while it's still hot."
He waited until the other man had left his room before rising to tug on his pants. His brow furrowed, he tried to untangle the laces he had accidentally knotted the previous night. Finally, he gave up and left his bedroom, holding his untied pants up with one hand.
The sounds of lively conversation greeted him as he entered the common room. Anakin was busily setting the table as Jinn scooped various foods into a collection of bowls.
"And then, Kitster said, 'Don't you think it would work better if you turned it the other way around?'" Anakin said laughingly.
"And what did you say?" Jinn asked, an indulgent smile on his lips.
"I told him I'd never seen a chain go there before," Anakin grinned, then dissolved into delighted giggles when Master Jinn's hearty laugh rang out. The boy turned, spying Obi-Wan. "Good morning!"
"You're up early," he said as he crossed to the table and threw himself into a chair, his legs sprawling wide.
"Oh, we've been up for hours!" Anakin informed him with a grand wave of one hand. Then, noticing his Master's lifted eyebrow, he revised, "Well, for about an hour anyway."
"Sit down, Anakin," the older Jedi said as he brought the bowls to the table. With a deft hand, he placed hearty portions of the cooked eggs and browned stago patties upon both Obi-Wan and Anakin's plates. His eyes flickered to Obi-Wan's bare chest, a hint of reproof in his glare. The young man watched as Jinn's gaze drifted lower to the untied pants, and the glare deepened. "Go put your tunic on, Obi-Wan."
"Why?" he asked as he speared a bite of egg with his eating utensil.
"Because, it is disrespectful for you to appear at the table in such a state of undress," Jinn replied firmly.
"Disrespectful" Obi-Wan sneered. "Oh, well, excuse the fuck out of me!" He stormed from the room, only to return a moment later, carrying the overly large tunic Jinn had loaned him. He shrugged into it, then took his seat and began eating, pointedly ignoring his companions. He felt the steely gaze of the Jedi Master boring into him. At last, he met the other's eyes as he insolently wiped his mouth with the sleeve of Jinn's tunic. The Jedi narrowed his eyes but did not respond to Obi-Wan's obvious baiting.
The rest of breakfast passed in silence. Finally, Jinn rose and slipped into his robe.
"Where are you going?" Obi-Wan asked suspiciously.
"To the gardens to meditate," he told them. "I'll leave the two of you to clean up, and then you have some lessons to finish, Anakin. I'm sure Obi-Wan would be glad to help you if you need assistance. The subjects you're studying should all be familiar to him from his days at the Temple."
Obi-Wan frowned at the Jedi Master. "I don't remember any of that shit!"
Jinn glared down at him. "You will," he said before leaving them alone. He headed for the door, but turned before exiting to level a piercing look at Obi-Wan. "I don't want you leaving these rooms while I'm gone, agreed?"
The former slave fidgeted under the scrutiny, his frown deepening. "What's the point? You'll probably have every Jedi in the place watching me."
"No, not watching you," Jinn said meaningfully as he slipped out the door.
Obi-Wan shivered. The last thing he'd wanted to be reminded of was that he was in a Temple full of empaths, all reading him like the pages of an open book. He glared at the closed door for a long moment, before rising to help clear the table.
Qui-Gon returned to their rooms a couple of hours later, to find Anakin still studying. His meditation had relaxed him, allowing him to release some of the emotions he'd been feeling toward Obi-Wan into the Force. There'd been anger, of course, at the young man's insolence, but also a definite measure of lust.
Shame on you, old man, he chided himself as he spied the former slave, now fully dressed at least. Force, but he was beautiful, sitting there by the window with the golden rays of the Devinnar sun highlighting his auburn hair. The gray-green eyes rose to meet his, their expression at once challenging and cautious, and Qui-Gon had to force himself to look away. He noticed a light blinking on the room's comm unit, and crossed to sink into the form-fitting chair.
"Hello, Qui-Gon," Healer Neesi Vortrela's soft voice said when he activated the recorded message. "Yoda contacted me and brought me up to speed on young Obi-Wan." She shook her head slightly, her violet eyes taking on a haunted look. "It's terrible what's happened to him. But, the worst thing, of course, is the Force inhibitor."
Her gaze grew intense. "I won't lie to you, Qui, removing it is going to be rough. Obi-Wan's been cut off from the Force for a very long time. Too long. We really have no idea what will happen when it's removed. The timing must be right, all the proper controls in place. But, we really have no option. As dangerous as it is to remove the collar, it's substantially crueler to leave it on."
She tilted her head and leaned forward as if she were actually seeing Qui-Gon. "I expect that Obi-Wan's mental and emotional stability is fragile, possibly even irrational. He's more than likely showing signs of physical and sexual aggression. This is more a defense mechanism than anything. He's acting out of fear, Qui. Uncertainty about his future, insecurity about his place in the universe, probably even some trepidation about having the collar removed. The best thing you can do for him now is to be completely open with him. He needs your compassion now, your understanding, your patience, and your truthfulness. If he ever thinks that you're lying to him, we could lose him completely."
She sat back and drew a deep breath, as if steadying herself. "I have to tell you, Qui-Gon, that I'm very concerned. Obi-Wan will need lots of therapy after being Force blinded for so long. There's even a possibility that he could go mad. But, rest assured, we'll do the very best we can for him." She smiled. "We'll talk more of it when you return to Coruscant. Healer T'brek and I are working on the problem, and maybe we'll have some better answers for you when you get home. Until then, take care of him, and try not to expose him to any more Force use than absolutely necessary, since it would probably only add to his fear and confusion. Good luck."
The recording ended, and Qui-Gon sat back, guilt and worry in equal measures vying for his attention.
Sith, Obi-Wan, he thought, glancing at the young man and remembering his rejection of seven years ago. What did I do to you?
Despite himself, Obi-Wan found himself caught up in Anakin's studies. He remembered how much he'd loved some of these very subjects when he was an Initiate. Surprisingly, it did all come back to him, although he would never have told Jinn that.
He shifted in his seat, his gaze turning automatically to Jinn, who had returned finally from his long meditation and was now seated at the comm station, silently reading the screen. Obi-Wan frowned.
Probably something about me, he thought darkly. He knew that Jinn had contacted the Jedi Council about him. Undoubtedly, they had already planned out the rest of his life, probably beginning with selling him back into slavery at their first opportunity.
He shivered involuntarily. It's not like I'm not expecting it, he told himself. It's all I know, after all, and far better than them trying to turn me into one of them again. Automatically, his hand traveled to the Force-inhibitor collar that had been around his neck since he was thirteen years old. What if they remove it? he wondered, barely suppressing a shudder. No, that was too horrible to even consider. He glared across at Jinn, sitting there so calm and superior. Abruptly, he couldn't stand to be in the man's presence for a moment more.
He got to his feet and toed Anakin, who lay nearby on his stomach, several datapads scattered about the floor in front of him. The boy looked up from the lessons he had been diligently studying for a couple of hours. "Hey, kid, what do you say you and me take a walk into town?"
The boy looked eagerly toward Qui-Gon, who turned from the comm. "May we, Master?" he asked, pushing himself up to a kneeling position.
"Why?" Qui-Gon asked the other man.
Obi-Wan shrugged his shoulders, struggling not to let his anger show. "For something to do. He's been studying a lot. I figured he could use a break."
"There are no public transports offworld, it that's what you have in mind," the Jedi Master said quietly.
Obi-Wan bristled. "I thought it'd be something nice for the kid, but if you don't trust me." His voice rose in anger. "Just forget I asked."
Qui-Gon looked from the reddened visage of his companion to the disappointed expression upon his Padawan's face. "All right. You may go. But be back before evening meal."
"Thanks, Master!" Anakin exclaimed, hurriedly gathering up his materials and running to his room, dropping datapads along the way.
"Obi-Wan." The Jedi paused, waiting for the younger man to meet his gaze. When he had his attention, he continued, "It's not that I don't trust you, exactly. It's just that, if I were you, I'd probably be looking for some means of escape."
"Yeah, well, I'm not you," Obi-Wan retorted. "And I certainly wouldn't want to run with a kid in tow."
"That would make it more difficult, wouldn't it?" A wry grin crossed the older man's face. His gently amused tone didn't do much toward calming Obi-Wan's anger.
"I'm ready!" Anakin announced as he reentered the room, shrugging into a light poncho. "Come on, Obi! Let's go!"
"I'm coming." He rose from his chair to follow the boy to the door. He paused in the archway, turning slightly to look back at Qui-Gon. With obvious reluctance, he offered a gruff, "Thanks."
Away from the eyes of Master Jinn, Obi-Wan loosened up. His smiles came easier, as did his laughter. Everything Anakin said seemed to amuse him. The Padawan, too, was having a wonderful time. The two of them were delighted to discover it was market day in the small town. Vendors had booths set up all around the town square. Anything a person desired could be found in that market. Including sex.
Anakin noticed an older man following him and Obi-Wan as they browsed through the booths. There was something unsettling about the way the man was looking at his companion, but Obi-Wan did not seem to notice. At last, their shadow approached them and drew the young man aside for a quiet word. Obi-Wan listened, his head down, his long hair falling across his face. Finally, he had looked at the man and nodded.
The man smiled briefly, then walked away, turning down a side alley. Obi-Wan turned to Anakin.
"You stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes," he instructed, then disappeared down the alley.
Anakin felt uneasy about the situation, but he continued to look through the stack of holovids in the booth where they had been accosted. Several minutes later, when Obi-Wan still had not returned, he was feeling decidedly anxious. Obi-Wan had given him specific instructions to stay put, but what if something was wrong? What if that man had hurt his friend? At last, he could wait no longer. He hurried to the entrance of the alleyway where he had last seen Obi-Wan.
The late afternoon shadows were heavy in the narrow corridor. Anakin proceeded slowly. As he neared a turn in the alley, he heard a deep-throated moan. Obi-Wan! And he sounded like he was in pain. Hurrying around the corner, he stopped suddenly, frozen in his tracks by the sight before him.
Obi-Wan had his hands braced against the rough stone wall, his head tilted back, his eyes closed as deep groans issued forth from his throat. The young man's leggings were pooled about his ankles and the stranger stood closely behind him. He had a tight grip on Obi-Wan's hips and was rhythmically driving himself into the young man.
"O--Obi?" Anakin called tentatively. The young man tensed as his eyes flew open, looking over his shoulder to meet the boy's shocked gaze.
"Get the fuck out of here!" Obi-Wan shouted angrily. Anakin jumped, tears welling at his angry tone. Without another word, he turned and fled the alleyway.
A few minutes later, Obi-Wan reemerged and glanced around the darkening square. The forlorn boy sat huddled upon the curb, one hand scraping at the dirt before him with a stick. Obi-Wan walked past him, muttering, "Come on. It's getting late."
Anakin trailed behind the man during the entire walk back to the Temple. Neither of them spoke a word until they reached the main gates.
"You go on. I'm going to sit in the garden for a while." Obi-Wan gestured toward the main residence building with one hand.
"But what about evening meal?" Anakin asked him plaintively.
"I'm not hungry," the man said, turning down a side path and moving out of sight.
"Infiltrate the seat of power," the text read. "Make it your own. Influence the course of political events and turn them to your advantage."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and considered those words. Seat of power, he thought. There may be something to that. How had the Sith known that the Queen was going back to Naboo? Only a select number of Senators, their respective staffs, and the Jedi knew of the Queen's plans. It stood to reason, then, that the Sith Lord had some influence over one or more of these people.
The Jedi he discarded immediately. It did not seem possible that the Sith could have --- how did the passage phrase it? Infiltrate? No, it seemed unimaginable that the Sith could have infiltrated the Jedi Order. The two were mortal enemies. And yet, what better place to hide?
Still, Qui-Gon supposed, the Jedi did not wield political influence. No, it was more likely that one of the Senators, or some member of their entourage, was the one being influenced. Qui-Gon took up his datapad, keying a reminder to determine which Senators had been apprised of Amidala's departure. He glanced at his chrono. It was getting late.
Across the table, Lee snored softly, his head pillowed on his arms. The old man had muttered something about resting his eyes for a bit. That had been two hours ago. Qui-Gon almost envied him. He knew he needed sleep himself, but had been unable to, partly because of the guilt he was feeling over Obi-Wan.
"Lee," Qui-Gon said softly as he reached out to gently shake his companion.
"Wha--?" The old man sat up quickly, brushing one hand over his eyes.
"I'm done here, I think," Qui-Gon told him as he rose to reshelf the books.
"Already?"
"You've been asleep for two hours," Qui-Gon chuckled scoldingly.
Lee blanched, getting to his feet. "We've got to get out of here!"
"Why?" Qui-Gon asked, puzzled.
"Did you find what you needed?" Lee asked, not bothering to explain, as he hurriedly gathered his robe and datapad, shoving his chair into place.
Qui-Gon paused a moment, deep in thought. "I'm not sure."
Lee urged Qui-Gon to his feet and pushed him out of the room. "I'm sorry I wasn't of more help to you. I didn't intend to fall asleep." Lee touched the light switch, then stepped through the door. "These records are very old. I'm not sure how relevant the information in them might be to the situation we're facing today."
"I have some ideas that I'd like to follow up." The Jedi Master shortened his stride to accommodate his companion's slower pace.
"Well, that's some consolation, at least," Lee said. "Care to join me for a nightcap?"
"Thank you, no," Qui-Gon shook his head. "I must check on Anakin and Obi-Wan."
"Then I shall wish you good rest, my friend." Lee held up his left hand. Qui-Gon touched his own palm to Lee's with a nod.
"And you as well," he replied before turning for the lift that would take him to his assigned quarters. He was surprised to see that his charges weren't home yet. Frowning, but not too concerned, he sat down and picked up the book he'd been reading earlier.
A few moments later, he heard the door to their quarters open, then slam shut. He looked up as Anakin stomped through the common room, his head down, his shoulders hunched. He did not greet his Master as he normally did, with a cheerful smile and a happy glance. Instead, he studiously avoided Qui-Gon's eyes, seeming intent upon reaching the sanctuary of his room.
"Anakin?" Qui-Gon's voice brought the boy up short. He stopped in his tracks but did not turn to face his Master. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," the boy mumbled.
Qui-Gon set his book aside and scooted to the edge of his chair. "Come here."
Anakin turned, his head down, and moved to stand in front of his Master, his steps betraying his reluctance. Qui-Gon touched one hand to his chin and raised his face, forcing the boy to meet his gaze. He was surprised to see tears standing in the youngster's blue eyes.
"What happened?" Qui-Gon's tone was gentle and coaxing; Anakin wavered for a moment before throwing his arms around the Jedi's neck and bursting into tears.
"It was awful, Master," he sobbed. "Obi-Wan disappeared and I couldn't find him and then, when I finally did, I thought that man was hurting him. He sounded like he was in pain! And when he saw me, he yelled at me to get the fuck out of there!"
Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around the boy and rubbed his back in a comforting manner. He held him for a few moments to allow the worst of his tears to subside. Then, he reached up to untangle Anakin's hands and gently set him away. "Now, start at the beginning and tell me what happened."
With a watery hiccup, Anakin told his Master of the trip into town with Obi-Wan.
The sound of night insects filled Qui-Gon's ears as he followed the path through the garden. It was late; the four moons had risen and were small in the sky. When nineteenth hour had come and gone, and Obi-Wan had not reappeared, the Jedi Master decided he would have to go in search of him. After checking on Anakin to make sure the boy was sleeping soundly, he slipped silently out of their quarters.
He was deeply disturbed. Obi-Wan's callous behavior, up until now, had been aimed chiefly at him. But today he had gone too far. Qui-Gon moved quietly along the path, noting a curious odor in the air. His brows drawn together, he struggled to place it. Then, realization dawned on him. Konja weed.
The Jedi Master stopped, breathing deeply to focus himself and release his sudden surge of anger into the Force. With a heavy sigh, he rounded the bend in the path, his eyes falling on the lounging figure of Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man lay upon the grass, his eyes half-closed in drowsy stupor, an aftereffect of the burning weed he held between two fingers. He rolled onto his side to study the Jedi as he took a long drag on the cigarette. "Want a hit?" he said, his words slurring a bit.
Qui-Gon crouched beside him, sitting on his heels as he ran one large hand through his loose hair. He plucked the cigarette out of the young man's hand and crushed it out in the grass, then looked deeply into Obi-Wan's unfocused eyes, noting his distended pupils and drunken movements. "Why, Obi-Wan?"
The younger man chuckled as he rolled onto his back. "You were right, you know," the young man said, not pretending to misunderstand the question. "I was looking for a means of escape. Just not the one you meant."
"Come on." Qui-Gon helped the young man to his feet, intent on taking him back to the quarters that had been assigned to them. He draped one of Obi-Wan's arms over his shoulders and maintained a tight grip on his wrist, wrapping his free arm around the other's waist so he could hold him closely to his side. Obi-Wan's head lolled weakly, falling first forward, then back.
"That's some good shit," Obi-Wan mumbled to the taller man, an intoxicated grin on his face. He reached up and touched Qui-Gon's chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes before he trailed his fingers down over Qui-Gon's chest to the top of his leggings. "Now, I think I'd like some of this. I bet it'd be good, too."
"No," Qui-Gon answered shortly, though he felt his cock stir with interest. He released his lust to the Force, then grunted as the younger man abruptly shifted most of his weight onto him. "Try to walk, Obi-Wan."
"I am walking," his companion declared drunkenly, then followed it with a short laugh. "Just not very well."
The two made their way through the Temple corridors without any mishaps, aside from an overturned potted plant or two. Qui-Gon breathed a silent sigh of relief when their door came into view. He had a difficult moment when he realized he had no hand free to key the door. Finally, with a promise to make up for it with the proper meditations, he used a touch of the Force to key the entry code. The door slipped open before them, and he maneuvered his charge inside and into one of the straight backed chairs by the eating table. He knelt to remove Obi-Wan's boots.
"Master? Is everything all right?" Anakin's questioning tone drew his attention. The boy, clad in a set of pajamas, stood in the doorway to his sleeping nook. He rubbed sleepily at his eyes.
"Ever' thing's great, kid, thanks to you!" Obi-Wan declared. "You got me out of this damned Temple so I could get some good shit." He frowned slightly. "'Cept he took it." Obi-Wan gave the boy a crooked grin. "See? You're not worthless after all!"
"Anakin, go to bed," Qui-Gon instructed, casting Obi-Wan an angry look before turning to send a nod toward the apprentice's sleep area.
"Yes, Mas--" Anakin began to turn, then broke off abruptly, his eyes going wide as he looked in Obi-Wan's direction. His Master followed his gaze.
Obi-Wan was holding a deadly looking knife, apparently another souvenir from town. He ran the pad of his thumb along its edge, testing its sharpness.
"What are you doing?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, his limbs going completely still.
"Trying to decide if I want to use this to cut my hair," Obi-Wan replied, his eyes focused on the glinting metal of the blade, "or to cut my throat."
With the subtlest of gestures, Qui-Gon instructed his Padawan to return to his sleeping nook. Anakin shut the door behind him. Once the boy was out of harm's way, Qui-Gon rose and held out his hand, palm up, "Give it to me. I'll cut your hair for you."
For a moment, it seemed that Qui-Gon might have to force him to relinquish the weapon. He waited, schooling his facial expression into one of confidence and serenity. All the while, his heart pounded madly in his chest. At last, Obi-Wan flipped the blade around and handed it to the Master hilt first. He reached up and grasped the back of his shirt collar, tugging the dark brown garment over his head and discarding it.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Qui-Gon stepped behind the chair and chose a knotted lock of the young man's light hair. With a swift stroke, he sliced away the worst of the tangle and dropped it to the floor. He worked methodically and soon a large pile had accumulated between his feet. His fingers combed through Obi-Wan's sandy hair one last time, employing a subtle touch of the Force to unknot the rest of the tangles, then tucked the weapon into the back of his waistband. Better to have it out of temptation's way, he thought.
"I'm finished," he declared.
The young man reached up to touch his locks. "Did you give me a padawan cut?" he asked, turning in his chair to look up at the older man.
"No, just shortened it a bit. Perhaps you should go take a shower, wash off any loose hairs," he suggested.
"Yeah," Obi-Wan nodded, then slowly pushed himself to his feet. He touched his fingertips to his temple, grimacing. "Yeah, a shower. That sounds good."
Qui-Gon watched him go, then crouched to scoop up the scraps of loose hair, gathering them into his large hands. He fingered some of the curling locks speculatively, noting how dry and coarse they were, nothing like the fine, red-blonde hair he remembered from Obi-Wan's days on Coruscant.
"Jinn?" the other man's voice called to him from the doorway of the 'fresher. He looked up.
Obi-Wan had shed his pants and was leaning against the doorway, beautifully naked and alluring, his fully erect cock jutting out before him. Qui-Gon's mouth went dry and he found himself unable to move as Obi-Wan's tone dropped to a sultry purr. "Care to join me?"
It took him a moment to find his voice. "No," he said firmly, though part of him was certainly more than willing. He remained where he was, knowing that to stand would only reveal his body's reaction to the glorious site before him. "No, that wouldn't be wise." He waved Obi-Wan off with a flick of his hand. "Go shower," he ordered. "I'll have some hot caff ready when you're done."
He tried to ignore the look of disappointment that flitted across Obi-Wan's features before the young man shrugged. "Fine. But don't expect me to offer again." With that, he turned and disappeared into the 'fresher.
Qui-Gon sank back onto his heels. Force, what is wrong with you, old man? he asked himself. This boy could have been your Padawan, and here you are lusting after him like a bull bantha in heat! He closed his eyes, and the image of a naked Obi-Wan flashed again on the inside of his eyelids. Oh, no. Not a boy anymore. A man, now. Yes. Definitely a man.
Ignoring the tight heat at his crotch, he rose and made his way into the kitchen to prepare the caff. He feared it was going to be a very long night.
Obi-Wan stroked himself feverishly, his palm caressing the sensitive vein running the length of his hard cock. He could feel his balls tightening as his orgasm approached. Rivulets of hot water rolled down his back, like the hot caress of a lover's tongue. He closed his eyes, imagining that it was Jinn tasting his flesh, pleasuring him. With a deep-throated groan, he spilled his seed over his hand. Obi-Wan dropped to his knees, his face upturned into the stream of water, his eyes closed as he panted his release. As the fever in his blood receded, reason returned.
What the fuck did you just do? he asked himself angrily as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. You didn't just offer yourself to him, did you Kenobi? Surely that was a weed-induced fantasy.
He reached up to shut off the water, then pushed himself to his feet. A curse fell from his lips when he realized he had forgotten to get a towel. Obi-Wan crossed to the closed door, opening it slightly to see if Jinn was still in the common room. He did not see him. He opened the door wider, a steamy puff of air following him as he slipped to the small closet where linens were stored.
"The caff is ready." Jinn's voice startled him. He hastily extracted a towel and wrapped it around his hips, covering himself. A stain of embarrassment graced his cheeks as he faced the other man. The Jedi wore his usual look of serenity, and Obi-Wan couldn't tell whether he had seen anything or not. It was one thing to purposefully expose himself to the Jedi. But the thought of Jinn catching him unaware made him feel vulnerable. He followed Jinn to the small kitchen, where the Jedi Master sat down and held out a cup of steaming caff.
"Thanks," Obi-Wan muttered as he slipped into a seat and accepted the drink. He sipped it cautiously, then sighed with pleasure as the hot liquid slipped down his throat, warming his belly. It was delicious, sweet and fragrant, just the way he liked it. Unconsciously, he licked the rim of the cup, wanting to get every drop, and was surprised to see Jinn turn away suddenly.
"I'm going to meditate before turning in. You may join me, if you wish." Jinn's voice was oddly rough as he got to his feet.
"I don't meditate," Obi-Wan replied with a shake of his head.
"Ah," the older man said softly.
"I haven't been able to since --- since I was cured," Obi-Wan explained lamely. "It was really hard at first. I used to spend a lot of time in meditation when I was an Initiate."
"It is helpful in maintaining our mental and emotional balance," Jinn told him. "It allows us to harness our emotions and use them in a constructive manner. Negative or strong feelings can be captured and released into the Force where they will do no harm."
"Yes. I remember the teachings," he said shortly as he stared into the depths of his cup.
"When we return to Coruscant, the Healers will remove your collar," the Master told him. "You will be able to meditate again when your connection to the Force is restored."
"No!" Obi-Wan stood abruptly, the cup falling from his hand to shatter on the floor at his feet. He protectively covered the gold metal of the collar. "I won't allow it!"
Jinn studied him intently, then obviously decided to let the matter lie. He moved into the common room and sank to his knees, closing his eyes as he sank into a relaxed trance. Obi-Wan watched him for a moment longer, then noticed the shards of broken glass at his feet. He stepped over them carefully, then knelt and began to pick up the fragments with care.
Jinn did not move. It was as if he had gone to another place. Obi-Wan kept glancing at him, a hot stirring of resentment growing in his heart. No, Obi-Wan realized, not resentment. Jealousy. He longed to know that quiet and restful peace that only meditation affords. He craved it like a starving man craves food. To have it displayed before him, without being able to partake himself, was an exquisite form of torture.
Spotting the steaming pot of caff on the stove, Obi-Wan pulled a cup from the cabinet and poured himself some more. He sat back down, sipping at it. He was exhausted, though whether from the trip to town or the hit of Konja weed, he didn't know. He leaned forward onto one hand and closed his eyes, letting his mind go blank.
Qui-Gon surfaced from his meditation and reached out automatically through the Force. He could sense Anakin in his room, sound asleep, but Obi-Wan's door was still open, the room empty. Concerned, he rose and stepped into the kitchen.
There, leaning on the table, his head pillowed on one arm, was the lovely young man who should have been his Padawan. How would Obi-Wan's life be different if he had made the right choice all those years ago? And where, for that matter, would Anakin be right now? Still a slave? Or would the tattooed Sith he had fought on Tatooine have discovered the boy, stolen him away as a recruit for their order? Qui-Gon sighed, too tired to delve into the mystery. With a gentle hand, he shook the young man's shoulder. "Obi-Wan."
"Mmm?" he replied, shifting in his chair without opening his eyes.
"Time for bed," Qui-Gon said quietly.
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan pushed himself up to a sitting position, swiping at his eyes with one hand. Then, without another word, he rose and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Qui-Gon remained where he was, frozen in place by Obi-Wan's words. Yes, Master.
It had been pitifully easy to land his craft and approach the sleeping Temple on Devinnar 3, Maul thought disdainfully as he crept along the garden path. It looked and felt quite unprotected, but he knew that was a ruse. He could sense the myriad of powerfully emphatic minds inside, most of them were relaxed in slumber. He was carefully shielding his presence in the Force, but still he moved with stealth, carefully placing his feet so that no sound would carry to listening ears. Around him, the lively chirping of night insects fell silent, as though they sensed his evil intent.
When he came across a secluded alcove, he slipped inside and crouched. "You will be able to recognize him by his Force signature," his Master had told him. "It will feel suppressed." Maul closed his eyes and began probing the Force. There were many Force sensitive beings in the building before him, though not nearly so many as on Coruscant. He combed through their signatures, abandoning one after another. Then, a particularly strong being drew his attention. It was a boy, quite young, and filled with enormous potential.
He tightened his focus, skirting around the edges of the boy's awareness. His eyes narrowed. Jinn. So, the boy was Jinn's Padawan, was he? Maul wondered why he hadn't sensed the boy before, on Tatooine or Naboo. His mind supplied the answer. Because you weren't looking for him. You were only engaging a known enemy, the Jedi that your Master had foreseen as dangerous.
He probed a bit deeper, examining the boy's Force signature. Never before had he encountered a being so strong in the Force. His eyes flew open at the ramifications. Did his Master know of this boy's existence? Perhaps, this boy could be lured away from the Jedi. He would make a formidable apprentice, once Maul had disposed of Darth Sidious. Determined to keep this bit of knowledge to himself, Maul further strengthened his shields so his Master would not be alerted through their training bond. He closed his eyes again and resumed his search. There. There was the signature he had been seeking.
//Wake up,// he sent through the Force, smiling in satisfaction when he felt the man stirring. //You cannot breathe. You are suffocating. You need to get out into the gardens for air. Hatred and greed surrounds you. You need to get away from the thrice-damned Jedi, before they trap you in their grip forever!//
He chuckled evilly when he sensed the man's panic. //Good,// he sent, //that's right. Now, outside. Go to the gardens. There is someone there who will save you, someone who will take you away from all of this.//
Obi-Wan sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding in his chest. He sucked in a lungful of air, feeling as if he'd forgotten how to breathe.
Fuck, he thought, trying to calm himself. What's happening? He wrapped his arms around his torso and glanced about the darkened room. He was alone. So, why were all this senses telling him that he was surrounded? No, not just surrounded - trapped.
He didn't know why he suddenly felt this way, but it didn't matter. He had survived over the years by trusting his instincts. Shoving himself out of bed and struggling into his pants, he headed for the door. He had to get outside, into the open, into the air. There had to be some way to escape, someone who could take him away from these thrice-damned Jedi. Moving like a wraith, he slipped out of his room.
In the common room, Qui-Gon lay stretched out on the couch, trying his best to sleep. It wasn't working. Ever since Obi-Wan had gone to bed, he'd been unable to get the young man out of his mind. The image of him -- damp, naked, and aroused as he stood in the 'fresher doorway - had left Qui-Gon hard and aching for relief.
He'd tried willing his erection away, had tried pressing the pressure point that would normally deflate it, had finally in desperation tried masturbating, but none of it had helped.
This is ridiculous, old man, he told himself sternly. Just because Obi-Wan is young and attractive, with the most incredible eyes that change color subtly with his moods, and just because he has the most sensuous mouth, a mouth that you would love to have wrapped tightly around your--
He jumped to his feet when the door to Obi-Wan's room opened.
Oh, Force! he thought, adjusting his clothes to try to hide his obvious arousal. But, one look into the young man's panic-filled face was enough to make him forget his body's needs.
"Obi-Wan?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
"I have to get out of here!" the former slave said breathlessly, his eyes darting past Qui-Gon to the door. "I have to get out of here now!"
"Why? What's happened?"
Obi-Wan didn't look at him and didn't answer. Qui-Gon took note of the way the man's chest was heaving, the pale sheen of sweat on his forehead. He was suddenly getting a very bad feeling about the situation. He stepped forward, holding out one hand. "Come sit here with me, and we'll talk about this."
Obi-Wan jerked back like he'd been stung, though Qui-Gon had not so much as touched him. "No! I have to get out! You told me I was free! Am I, or not?"
"Yes," Qui-Gon said, moving slowly closer. "But you are my responsibility. Tell me what's wrong."
Obi-Wan shook his head frantically, eyes flickering toward the door again. Determined not to let him go, the Jedi Master moved to block him.
Two towers away, Maligo was awakened by a disturbance in the Force, a dark stirring. He reached out with his senses. What he found shocked him. A cloying presence was attempting to enter the Temple. The fetid odor of a rotting soul carried on the eddies of the Force, making his stomach threaten to empty.
He rolled out of bed and hit a button on his bedside comm.
"The Temple is under attack!" he shouted into the pickup. "Sound the alarm!"
The piercing shriek of an alarm system startled the Sith. He pushed to his feet, his hand reaching for his lightsaber as all over the grounds, lights began flickering on, one after another. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of engaging the Jedi. But the number of beings he sensed hurrying through the corridors toward him was too vast. Maul felt a helpless rage fill him; he had failed yet again. And this time, his Master would not be so understanding.
He spun angrily and headed back to his ship at a run.
"Tell me why you feel you have to leave," Qui-Gon asked again, his eyes locked on the panicked young man before him.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a siren went off. Its loud, pulsating wail echoed off the walls, filling their rooms with a cacophony of noise. The door to the second bedroom opened, and Anakin stumbled out, bleary eyed and dressed only in his pajamas, but with his lightsaber firmly in hand.
"What is that?" the boy asked.
"The Temple's security alarm," Qui-Gon said, grabbing his own weapon. He glanced at Obi-Wan. The young man was edging back toward his room, his face pale with fear. At least, Qui-Gon thought, he didn't seem intent on leaving in the face of this new, unknown threat.
"Stay here with Obi-Wan," the Master instructed his apprentice. He saw the boy preparing to argue, to say that his place was at his Master's side, but he stopped it with a pointed look. "Stay with him! Make sure neither of you leaves these rooms, and that no one enters. Understand?"
Anakin nodded, biting his lower lip. Without another word, Qui-Gon spun on his heel and left them, taking the precaution of sealing the door behind him. Only he or another Jedi Master could open it. That done, he broke into a run, letting the Force guide him.
He met others along the way. Every Master and Knight and Padawan, it seemed, was addressing the danger. The throng led him to a little-used back door. By the light of a few dozen lightsabers, he could barely make out the figure of a man as it disappeared in the distance. But, though he couldn't see his face, Qui-Gon knew instinctively who it was.
The black and red tattooed Sith had returned.
Lee stepped up beside him a moment later. "That was your Sith, I take it," he said, powering down his lightsaber. Qui-Gon did the same, nodding numbly.
"Yes." He sent a tendril of reassurance through his training bond with Anakin, getting one in response. At least, all was well with the boy and Obi-Wan.
"What do you think he's after?" Lee asked.
Qui-Gon thought for a long moment. What did the encounters with the Sith have in common? He nearly gasped as a dawning realization washed over him. Anakin! The boy had been present in each location where the Sith had shown himself.
"My apprentice, I'm afraid," Qui-Gon said, releasing his unused adrenaline to the Force. He looked down to meet his old friend's eyes. "We have to leave," he said. "Immediately. If the Sith are after Anakin, then Coruscant will be the safest place for him."
"But, your mission, your research . . ."
"That will have to wait," Qui-Gon told him. He offered his hand to Lee. "Thank you, my friend, for your hospitality and your help. I will return to continue my work when this threat has been neutralized."
Lee pressed his palm to the taller man's. "May the Force go with you, Qui."
Obi-Wan paced restlessly in the common room of their suite, fear gnawing at his nerves. He glanced in annoyance at Anakin, who sat still as stone on the couch, his hands folded around the hilt of his lightsaber.
How can he be so calm? he wondered, feeling a frown tightening his face. We have no idea what the fuck is going on out there. Trust Jinn to leave us here without a clue! He spun, a startled gasp escaping him, as the door to their rooms burst open and the Jedi in question entered.
"Get your things," Jinn ordered. "We're leaving."
"Now?" Anakin asked, getting to his feet. "It's the middle of the night!"
"You can sleep once we're underway. Now, go pack." The Jedi Master nodded towards the young boy's sleeping area, then faced Obi-Wan. "I need your help."
"My help?" Obi-Wan could not have been more surprised.
"Yes," Jinn replied as he moved to the small desk in the corner and gathered up the datapads there. He piled them neatly, then paused for a moment, one hand on his hip as he combed his fingers through his silvered hair. "There was an intruder in the garden. That's why the alarm went off." He met Obi-Wan's eyes. "It was the Sith. The one who killed Bruck."
In spite of himself, Obi-Wan took a step backward. Perhaps the childhood stories told by the crŠche masters had made an impression on him, for he felt a frisson of fear race down his spine. "But what can I do?"
"Help me to watch over Anakin." The Jedi glanced at the alcove where the boy was hurriedly stuffing clothing into a pack. He stepped closer to Obi-Wan, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I think the Sith may be after the boy."
"But why?" Obi-Wan frowned, looking at the Padawan as he now scrambled about on the floor, gathering his datapads. "What would the Sith want with Anakin?"
"Let's just say he's... very special," Jinn hedged. It was clear that while he might enlist Obi-Wan's aid, the Jedi didn't feel he could take the young man completely into his confidence. There was definitely more going on here.
"I'm ready, Master," Anakin reported back to the Jedi.
"Very well, my Padawan," Jinn said, a smile ghosting over his lips as he reached out to brush the boy's spiky hair with his large hand. He crossed the room and picked up his rucksack, slipping his things inside. "Let's go."
In spite of the hour, the Temple was a hive of activity as the residents checked the grounds for further signs of intruders. Jinn guided the pair through the Temple's maze of hallways. All around them, Obi-Wan observed Knights and Padawans, their lightsabers in hand, on patrol. Here and there, a Master could be seen standing quietly, his eyes closed, his body projecting an air of intense concentration. Apparently, the Jedi were using their most skilled empaths to augment the physical search.
"What are they looking for, Master?" Anakin asked as he scurried along, trying to keep up with the long-strided Jedi.
"I'll tell you later, now hurry," Jinn said brusquely, the heels of his tall boots clicking on the flagstones of the corridor.
Obi-Wan snorted disbelievingly. "I wouldn't bet on it."
Jinn made no reply as he paused to open a door, ushering them into a dusty, cob-webbed staircase that led down into the depths of the mountain. A few minutes later, the doors to the exposed landing pad opened before them, revealing a dark sky, broken by numerous fiery lightning strikes. One of the planet's notorious thunderstorms had rolled in with a sudden fierceness. The rumble of thunder shook the platform beneath their feet as they crossed to their ship and slipped onboard.
The Jedi Master went immediately to the cockpit and started the power-up sequence, then got on the headset to request clearance for takeoff. Obi-Wan lowered himself into one of the chairs in the main cabin, his eyes drawn to the porthole before him. Part of him regretted leaving this place, having found a few moments of peace and safety here.
The ship trembled as the engines engaged, then slowly propelled them into the air. Obi-Wan glanced out for one last glimpse of the Temple, but the dark of night and the storm made it impossible for him to see the coppered roofs of the building. He sighed. He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to Maligo.
As rain began to pound their small craft, they rose quickly into the cloud layer and through the last vestiges of atmosphere. Within minutes, Obi-Wan felt the ship surge into hyperspace, and Jinn emerged from the cockpit. "We're safe now," he announced.
"Safe?" Anakin asked. "Safe from what, Master?"
The Jedi Master took a seat opposite his Padawan. "From the Sith who was trying to get into the Temple."
The boy's eyes went round. "He followed us here?"
Jinn nodded. "Apparently," he said, leaning toward the boy. "Anakin, I don't want you to be afraid, only wary. We will be back on Coruscant in a few days. He will not dare approach us there."
"What about on the trip home?" Anakin asked, glancing somewhat nervously around their small craft.
"Now that we're in hyperspace, it will be impossible for him to locate us, since I doubt his ship has the advanced technology necessary."
The boy nodded and took a relieved breath. "Well, I'm glad we're going home. It was boring on Devinnar 3, and I can't wait to show Obi-Wan around Coruscant."
Qui-Gon ruffled the boy's hair fondly. "Yes," he said with a slight grin, "but getting back to Coruscant means getting back to your classes." His grin widened as Anakin made a face, then he got to his feet, making eye contact with each of them in turn. "Why don't the two of you turn in?"
Anakin yawned. "Sounds good to me," he said as he slid to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder at Obi-Wan before leaving. "You coming?"
"Yes," the young man said. "In a moment."
With a nod, Anakin headed for his cabin, and Obi-Wan stood up and turned to face Jinn. "Not that I believe that the Sith exists," he began. "But, why would anyone be after Anakin? He's just a boy."
"I told you. He's very special."
"Special how?" Obi-Wan prodded.
Qui-Gon sighed and glanced down the corridor, as if assuring himself that his Padawan was not within earshot. "He has the highest midichlorian count of any Jedi. I believe him to be the one who will bring balance to the Force."
Obi-Wan's brow drew together as he thought back to long-ago lessons, then his eyes widened. "You're kidding, right?" he scoffed. "You think Anakin is the Chosen One?"
Qui-Gon folded his hands in his sleeves and nodded.
Obi-Wan made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "Now I know you're crazy," he said. He waved a dismissive hand at the Jedi, then started down the corridor, heading for the cabin he had occupied on the trip to Devinnar 3, more grateful than ever for the collar that kept him sane.
Darth Maul watched as the Jedi's ship broke through the atmosphere of Devinnar 3 and, moments later, went into hyperspace. There was no doubt as to its destination. Perhaps, if he could get close enough, he might continue his mental assault on the slave. He keyed his craft for liftoff from the orbiting refueling station where he had taken cover, then plotted a course for Coruscant. Once he had made the jump, he closed his eyes and sank into a meditative state, in search of that other mind.
It didn't take him long to find it. The young man was asleep. Perfect.
//He did this to you, // Maul sent, pouring all of his considerable power into the connection. He made no attempt at subtlety this time, stabbing his thoughts into the receptive mind, rejoicing in the agony he caused his victim. He could feel his words echoing like laser blasts in the young man's head. //He will do it again. For you are nothing to him, to anyone. He will revel in your screams, taking perverse pleasure in your agony. He will lick the blood from your wounds, wounds he will gleefully inflict. He is the instrument of your destruction.//
He felt the young man wake, felt his fear and pain, even felt him curling into a tight ball of misery. Darth Maul smiled. It was enough for now.
An ominous sound, like the scales of some venomous reptile rasping across hard stone, filled Anakin's mind. He snuggled deeper into his bed as words whispered past, muted and undecipherable. His heart began to pound as an inexorable sensation of doom pressed upon him. He sat up, panting in fear, then leapt from his bed and raced to the cockpit.
"Anakin." Qui-Gon turned when he heard the rapid steps of his apprentice. "What are you doing up?"
"I--" the boy cut himself off, not sure of how to explain his unease.
The Jedi slipped one arm around the boy, drawing him to his side. "Did you have another bad dream?"
"I guess so, Master," Anakin admitted, feeling a bit foolish now that the panic had subsided.
"We must spend more time on meditations to allow you to deal with your feelings. Now, why don't you see if you can go back to sleep?" Qui-Gon suggested gently.
"Yes, Master," he said, nodding. "Good night."
"Good night, Anakin," the Jedi replied as he turned back to his control panels.
The boy made his way down the hallway, silently berating himself. He had to learn to stop letting his dreams upset him so much. A soft noise from the darkened 'fresher drew him up short. He felt his heart accelerate once again. On cautious feet, he crept forward and slipped one hand inside the doorframe to key the light.
There, huddled on the cold tiled floor, was Obi-Wan. His arms were protectively encircling his head as he rocked forward and back, clearly distressed. Anakin hesitated only a moment before going for help. "Master!" he cried as he hurried through the ship.
Qui-Gon slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes as the boy entered the cockpit. "What is it now, Padawan?"
"Something's wrong with Obi-Wan," he said anxiously. "Something bad."
"Where is he?" Qui-Gon asked, all impatience gone from his voice as he stood quickly and followed his apprentice.
Anakin led him to the 'fresher, then stepped aside so the Jedi Master could enter. The tall man moved quickly to kneel at Obi-Wan's side, placing a comforting hand upon the other's shoulder.
"Obi-Wan, what's wrong?" he asked gently.
The young man gasped and skittered away from him, backing himself into the corner, one hand outstretched defensively. "Don't touch me!"
Qui-Gon sat back on his heels, a look of deep concern upon his face. "What is it?"
"Hurts," Obi-Wan muttered thickly, wrapping one arm over his head again as he resumed his rocking.
"What hurts?" Qui-Gon started to reach out again, then dropped his hand when Obi-Wan tensed and leaned away.
"The voice," he replied, his anguished eyes meeting those of the Jedi Master's. Pleadingly, he said, "Make it stop!"
Qui-Gon hesitated only a moment before he waved his hand in front of Obi-Wan's face, intoning, "Sleep." He moved to catch the young man as he collapsed into unconsciousness, then gently lowered him to the floor. Even in this state, an expression of torment marred Obi-Wan's face. Qui-Gon looked up at Anakin. "Go get the Temple Healers online. I need to talk to them immediately," he ordered as he slipped his arms under the young man's shoulders and knees, then rose to take Obi-Wan back to his cabin.
Maligo sat at his desk, poring over supply requisitions for their quarterly shipment. His communications unit beeped insistently at him. Keying it, he was surprised to see the dark face of Adi Gallia appear on his screen.
"Master Sifo-Dyas," she nodded in greeting.
"Master Gallia, to what do I owe this honor?" He returned her courteous gesture.
"We need for you to report to Coruscant as soon as possible. The Supreme Chancellor has asked the Jedi to send a representative to a planet called Kamino," she explained. "Evidently, the Kaminoans have developed a very successful cloning program. We've chosen you for your superior empathic abilities. We believe that you are our best chance of accurately determining their motivations."
"I wish you had called me a few hours ago. I could have caught a ride with Qui-Gon," he said, smiling ruefully.
She seemed surprised. "Oh, is he on his way back?"
"Yes. I'm sure he'll explain when he gets there," the old man replied.
"Very well. May the Force be with you," she intoned before cutting the transmission.
In his dream, he was a boy again. Clean, unbroken, looking to the future with hope and anticipation. He stood with the other Initiates, waiting for the Masters to make their decisions. One after another, his agemates were chosen. But Obi-Wan felt confident. Time and again, his eyes were drawn to the tall, broad-shouldered man named Qui-Gon Jinn. He felt the Force nudging him in the Jedi's direction, almost as if it were offering a glimpse of his future.
Master Yoda was speaking to the Jedi, his words too soft for Obi-Wan to hear, but punctuated now and then by a decisive jab of his gimer stick against the floor. Master Jinn stood with his head down, his arms
crossed over his chest, his face set into a slight frown. Clearly, he was not happy with Master Yoda's words. At last, the Jedi gave a reluctant nod, then turned to face the Initiates.
Stay calm, Kenobi, the boy cautioned himself as he stood up straighter, a thrill of excitement racing down his spine. Don't jump the gun here. Remember, your response should be yes, my Master.
"I take as my Padawan learner," Master Jinn's voice rang out, strong and clear, "Bruck Chun."
"Yes!" the white-haired boy shouted, one fist pumping into the air in victory. He blushed a moment later when he said, "I mean, uh, yes, my Master."
Obi-Wan stood frozen. The gripping pain of disappointment made it nearly impossible to breathe. His pleading eyes met those of the Jedi Master's. Jinn held his gaze for a long moment, then turned away.
"Have fun in Agricorps, Oafy-Wan," Bruck sneered quietly, bumping his shoulder against Obi-Wan's before going to join his new Master.
Obi-Wan moved like an automaton as he left the salle to go pack his belongings. A curious numbness encompassed his mind when he turned for one last look at the dormitory where he had spent most of his childhood. Only when he was safely ensconced aboard his transport did the tears finally come.