The Most Dangerous Game

by Hilary (padawanhilary@gonwan.com) and Ruth Gifford (telesilla@worldnet.att.net)

Summary: Sith Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi wants to learn from the best, regardless of the cost.

Warnings: Canon has been twisted. Fanon has been twisted. Ages have been manipulated. Artistic license has been taken. This is set in a Universe where the Sith won the war, and our boys are Sith to the core. Torture & rape (both sort of semi-consensual, you'll know what we mean when you get there), abusive situations, extreme violence and graphic imagery, machines (again you'll know what we're talking about when you get there)

Notes (Ruth): This has been one of the most intense, and sometimes disturbing, writing experiences of my life. I could not have done it with out the encouragement of our wonderful editor Sian, the inspiration of Fuumin's incredible cover art, the interest of several TMI friends, and, of course, my amazing Partner in Crime, Hilary, who took my scary little Sith bunny and raised it up to a properly evil rabbit (with nasty pointy teeth). She has a huge ... talent. Thanks also to the amazing beta talents of Rahalia, who not only made sense, but did it in record time. If you're looking for fun, kinky, non-Sith, Safe Sane and Consensual BDSM from the Partners in Crime, check out Something Big. If you like the fictional equivalent of a speeder wreck, with evil boys and the rough stuff, keep going.

More notes (Hilary): Intense, yes. Disturbing, yes. Being in these boys' heads for this long is definitely an experience. I would not have managed to do them credit (discredit?) without Ruth's diamond-hard interpretations (no pun intended). And certainly it never would have been written if Sian hadn't contacted me. In short, it couldn't have been done without all the chips falling exactly as they did.

After years of private preparation, heavy shielding, building my pain tolerance and my skills, I had surpassed my master. Elated with power, I walked away from him, snapping the training bond off like a worthless animal's neck. I left him panting and exhausted in the training salle, biting back pained screams. I had impaled him through the shoulder with my 'saber, rendering his arm useless. They would heal him, certainly, but it made no difference. There was a very simple reason why I did not kill him: I wanted the vain, beautiful, cowardly Xanatos Crionis to live with the persistent humiliation of having been passed over by his own apprentice. Until, that was, someone else killed him for his failure.

I had been preparing for this for a good, long time, ever since I'd come to the realization that Crionis and his self-indulgence weren't going to take me anywhere. He was, in fact, hindering me. He carried himself like little more than a corrupt Lightsider, looking over his shoulder, perpetually afraid that he'd be caught for what he was: too scared to be Sith. Fear should be worked and cultivated, not clung to. Frankly, I wondered how he had made it as far as he did.

No one tried to stop me as I strode through the Temple corridors. No one bothered stepping into my path, though I know that my intentions were clear. Crionis' pain rippled through me even without the bond, feeding my desire to be away from him, to be finished. I could feel the Dark Force pulsing through me hotly as I made my way to my speeder. Jinn was on an outpost on the other side of Coruscant; in a matter of minutes I would be before him. I smiled as I dropped into the lower levels, disregarding the miserable filth and poverty-darkened eyes that regarded me as I passed.

He would either be my downfall or my ascension. No: he would be my ascension. There was no alternative. I did not defeat my previous "master" (and now I spoke the word inside my mind with disdain) only to be taken down. I would train under Qui-Gon Jinn and when the time came, I would defeat him, too.

The guards told me when he arrived, but I had felt him coming even before that. Such intensity of purpose, aimed at me, colored the Dark Force and was impossible to ignore. Of course I was used to having people focus on me. Usually they had no clue that their intentions were evident and that was all for the good. My perception had saved my life countless times; as the Left Hand of the Empire, its official assassin, I have made my fair share of enemies. It is a matter of some pride for me; I am alive and my enemies are either dead or too weak to attack me.

But this presence approaching me was different. Whoever he was, he was grimly determined, but not intent on doing me harm. And he was Sith, powerful in the Dark Force, but not strong enough to be another Lord. Of course, an apprentice. But why would an apprentice approach me with such purpose? This was no mere boy running an errand for his master.

As he waited in the anteroom I inspected him through the security monitors. I knew his name the minute I set eyes on him: Obi-Wan Kenobi, the apprentice of my former student Xanatos. Said to be very good, there was some speculation within the Order as to what Xanatos had done in order to get his hands on the boy.

For all his early promise, Xanatos had not been worthy of my time. I never shirk my duty and he never failed enough to warrant killing, but in the end, I was less than satisfied with him. My first apprentice's attempt to kill me left me in pain for a week and I allowed one of the scars to remain as a tribute to her drive and cunning. Xanatos' attempt had been lackluster at best; his childhood fear of me had never been replaced by any more mature feeling. After his Elevation, I walked away without feeling anything at all. We haven't spoken since.

He had me escorted up, though the guards were, we both knew, a formality. I wasn't here to attempt to harm him and he knew it. If I had been, I would already have taken out most of his staff-- and I would have been dead by the time I hit the doorway to his offices.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he greeted in a cold growl, appraising me. "What do you want?"

"Training," I answered without preamble. "I've defeated my master. I will take no other but you."

His eyebrow rose, and I felt his surprise at my declaration. Momentarily, he closed his eyes and then muttered disdainfully, "You've defeated no one. Xanatos lives."

I snorted. "Of course he does. I wanted him to live with the degradation of having been discarded by his own apprentice. He drew too much from his fear. I need someone who will draw from anger and the desire for power, as I do. I want you to train me."

Jinn turned away, his gaze drifting to a corner of the room. I followed his glance and saw a pale, naked man crouched there, eyes glazed in a fearful stupor, body covered with scars and fresh wounds in equal abundance.

"I will consider it," Jinn said thoughtfully, his voice hard. "But before I do a thing for you, you will understand that the disrespect you've shown for Xanatos will get you killed here."

I stared at him hard. He would know the whole truth later; for now, he did not need to be aware of all the preparation and fantasizing I'd done with regard to this very day. My disrespect masked no small amount of hunger.

"Respect has to be earned," I told him coolly, cloaking my thrill at his presence. "I'm here because your reputation is legendary, but popular opinion proves nothing."

His eyes went icy as he turned to glare at me. "Had I anything left to prove, I would do so easily. I am a master. If you wish to be my student, you will submit-- with respect-- or you will be killed."

I felt a brief rush of anger at his words. "I do not submit." His eyes did not change, so I adjusted my tactics. "You stand to gain here, Jinn. Think how prestigious it would be to train up the most powerful Sith in the Order. Second, of course, only to yourself." I smirked and sketched a shallow bow.

His growing anger was palpable. "You will learn," he ground out, "that it is not a good idea to mock me, boy. You have no idea what I went through to get where I am." He paused and I could feel the chill energy coalescing around him as he reached a decision. "But you will." He smiled, though it did not touch his eyes. "Oh, yes. You will."

I looked at him coldly. An arrogant pup, but one who, I had to admit, reminded me of myself at that age. There was more about him, but the memory of myself, demanding a trial I had no need to take, was my deciding factor.

"You know of the Skla-venJagd." It was not a question, all Sith were required to study our history.

"Of course." His eyes widened a fraction before he got himself under control. I laughed and he flushed slightly. "You want me to...."

"Of course," I replied, mocking him. I turned away from him then, relishing his slow flame of anger at the insult. I could almost feel the burn of his gaze on my seemingly unprotected back. But he controlled himself well for one so young. Good; hoarding one's anger is a path to power. "How old are you?"

"I passed the test when I was a year younger." I turned back and caught the look of surprise he tried to hide. "Two months later, after I healed, I killed my master."

His face hardened and it wasn't difficult to read his intent. "Oh you are welcome to try anytime you like." I smiled again and his eyes narrowed, although he wisely remained silent. ''So, child, do you think you can survive the Skla-venJagd? Or are you ready to crawl back to Xanatos on your belly?"

"Do not call me 'child,'" he replied hotly. "I will kill myself on your 'saber before I fail."

"You have thin skin." To that, he remained quiet, so I went on. "At least you've learned the virtue of silence. You dislike me don't you?"

"I hate you." He was lying; what I felt from him wasn't hate. It was fear. I took a moment to absorb it, the delicious fear of a normally fearless young man.

"Good. But there's more than that, isn't there? No, don't bother to lie: I can see it in your eyes. When I break you, then you will tell me." More fear, hastily masked.

I let the silence stretch for a moment longer. When I next spoke, my voice was deceptively casual. "Well then. You know my terms. You can go back to your master and beg forgiveness. Or you can let me test you in the Skla-venJagd. Of course, if neither course appeals, I can just kill you here and now."

"What do you think I will do?" He held his head high and once more I felt a grudging admiration for his courage.

"As you like. The test begins at 0800 tomorrow. You will have one full day to survive the... delights of the lower levels and then I will begin hunting you. Once I capture you, and I will, I will test you in other ways." He knew what I meant and I could see him suppress a shudder.

"Very well, you have leave to depart." I turned again and made my way toward the entrance to my inner rooms. Dar cowered in the doorway, clearly afraid of what would happen once my guest left. I smiled down at him and he instantly bowed his head to the floor.

"You were expecting something else?" I asked, knowing that he was. It was a master's privilege to take his apprentice any time he wished. Kenobi was obviously comparing his own beauty and arrogance to Dar's fearful cowering. I hid my smile. The very fact that he expected me to take him was reason enough not to. I hadn't reached this far by being predictable.

"No-- Master." I turned to look at him. He was bowing, but it was a shallow, mocking reverence.

I was upon him in three quick strides. "Do not presume. I'm not your master, boy. Yet." I reached out and grabbed his hair, yanking him down into a low bow. "And I will have the respect I deserve. Is that clear?"

"Clear," he ground out. My fingers were tight in his red gold hair but he showed no sign of discomfort.

I smiled then and slid my hand through his hair, then down to caress his cheek. The gentleness of my action obviously startled him, but he simply straightened out of his bow and remained still.

"Good. Then go." Once more I turned my back on him, moving toward Dar. Kenobi hesitated briefly, but then turned on his heel and left. I could feel an odd reluctance in him, but I chose not to dig deeper.

Let the boy keep his secrets, I thought, grabbing Dar by the wrist and hauling him to his feet. I'll pull them out of him soon enough. I bent and bit Dar on the neck, catching one of the bruises I'd placed there the night before. As he cried out, I felt weary of him. He'd need to be replaced soon. Of course, soon... I would have Kenobi.

As I had rather expected, Kenobi was early. Good. I intended to cheat and I was glad to see that he did too. The first thing I felt from him was a quick burst of surprise and annoyance. So-- he had reached my first trap. And survived it, as expected. Any Sith who would allow himself to be killed by a fear-maddened under-dweller wielding a blaster didn't deserve to call himself Sith, let alone live. He felt nothing at all over the killing and I smiled. An apprentice who regretted causing death would never survive my training.

I wondered if he'd ever been in the lower levels of Coruscant before. I doubted it; my former apprentice had never been one to look for trouble. I, on the other hand, treated the underside as a training ground. Time spent there not only kept me sharp but provided me with sufficiently paranoid targets. It would be interesting to see how Kenobi would cope; the filth alone made the underside a far cry from the luxury of the Temple or the sterile atmosphere of the training camps. Well, squeamishness was for weaklings; I'd had to spend time in places far worse than the underside in pursuit of my duties.

Several minutes later, I felt another burst of the Force. Kenobi had tripped one of the mechanical traps I had laid in the training area. He was either dealing with a section of floor falling out from under him or a piece of wall falling on him. Only a powerful Force user would survive either. The strength of Kenobi's response was gratifying; it seemed that Temple gossip hadn't exaggerated his ability that much. In with the simple Force manipulation I felt a burst of fear.

So, he was a little daunted at having to face traps even before the rules of the Skla-venJagd allowed me to hunt him. Good. Only a fool wouldn't be daunted at this point and Kenobi was no fool. I nodded as I felt him use his fear to lend him strength. Maybe, just maybe, he would prove worthy of me. For the first time since my interview with him the day before, I allowed myself to think of possible outcomes. The thought of training someone up to the level of assassin had its appeal, always providing Kenobi survived the Skla-venJagd.

Moments later, it must have been when the adrenaline wore off, a faint breath of pain teased at my senses. Oh good: he had hurt himself. Now I would see how he bore up while in pain. Not to mention that it would make it much easier to track him the next morning. I had planned on using his fear, but pain was harder to internalize than fear and thus less easily hidden. And there is one more thing of course, I thought, as I leaned back and stretched out my legs. Kenobi's pain is delicious.

I situated myself in the hunt site long before 0800. It wasn't difficult to get there; it had been a legend in the cr�che, this site, and so we all knew about it.

It was in the depths of the lower levels, where foundations cracked and threatened to shear, where the life forms were ugly and dangerous and those were their good qualities. I smirked. It was a dank, miserable, littered place, fetid with sewage here, death there, blood elsewhere.

I wasn't surprised at the miserable conditions. I had no doubt Jinn made good use of the wasteland that lay under the steepled veneer that was Coruscant; that was why I didn't care if it was earlier than the appointed hour before I began to move, looking for places to lay in wait. If Jinn was worth his salt, this was going to be a seriously unfair game.

I set off from my position without too much delay. It would be a good half-hour more before the game actually began, and given that I was sure he'd be dishonest about it, I knew I didn't have much time. I had one full day to stay hidden and alive. It was brief, but this time I could not afford to succumb to my confidence. Jinn wasn't Jinn for nothing.

A spike of fear ran through me as I realized that my chances were bleak either way. Ducking behind a building and then Force-leaping into a broken-out window, I realized the possibility of failure was the least of my difficulties. If I survived this hunt, Jinn was going to make me pay for my impertinence and my intrusion, as well as a host of other offenses I had neither committed nor thought of. He was the Order's cruelest, most calculating member: I was quite sure he'd invent reasons to inflict near-impossible amounts of pain on me. If I didn't make myself worth his effort then, he would kill me-- though I thought perhaps he'd rather watch Crionis have at me for a while first. No; no, I reconsidered that. My former master was a coward and we both knew it; he'd be so frightened in Jinn's presence that the renowned Sith Lord would probably end up killing us both out of impatience.

The room was dark in spite of the bright morning sun. In the underbelly of the city, the light never reaches very far. Of course, it never does on the surface, either.

I ran across the room and through a blown-out door, kicking rubbish and something that looked like the remains of a humanoid arm out of my way. The stench was awful here; it was strangely cool and immediately my senses picked up the more chilling evidence of a being in the building with me. I stretched for it, tamping down a heady rush of fear and shielding tightly. It wasn't Jinn, not yet. This was a rudimentary life in the Force, a blip on the screen. No one who lived here was worth dealing with.

Unless they were armed-- and this one was, judging by the crazed sense of fearlessness about it. I stalked carefully down two levels and then ducked behind a broken wall. I felt movement long before I heard any; the thing, whatever it was, was a floor below me. Stretching out again, I felt an echoing probe.

The floor erupted in an explosion of tile as blaster fire blew through. I caught myself just in time, arching back away from it. The shot would have taken off my face.

"Fuck!" I shouted, startled. Anger surged through me. Snarling, I palmed my lightsaber and activated the main blade, sinking it immediately into the floor with both fists. The blaster hole was pretty big, but not large enough to jump through easily, so I carved one around it concentrically and leapt down.

I landed right in front of what was essentially a hollowed-out, spiritless body. Its eyes were blank and glazed, its skin pale and clammy-looking. It was a drone: possibly just trying to survive in the lower levels, but this one felt... almost programmed to be in my way. Well, it wouldn't be for much longer. I deflected two blasts away from myself; it was a reasonably quick thing but its aim was bad. It would have been so easy to just bat a shot right back into its head; poetic, too. I wanted to see how it looked without a face.

But no. I extended the second blade of my 'saber, a thin, red facsimile of the first one. This was my secret weapon: arcing slightly, it ran parallel to the main blade. Not even Crionis knew about this feature on my 'saber, which was really a testament to just how much our training bond had atrophied.

I strode forward matter-of-factly. "Fucking distractions," I sighed, deflecting another shot and then running the drone through with the blades, noting the stunned, wide-eyed hitch of its last half a breath. I flipped a switch and the 'saber rotated once in a quick, flashing circle, coring out a perfect ten-centimeter hole in the thing's chest. There was no dying gasp; its lungs were cut wide open and exposed, cauterized, to the air.

I made a face at the smell and retracted the blades. Devious son of a bitch. This had Jinn written all over it. We hadn't even started yet and already he was trying to kill me. But it was so easy; really, it made me wonder where Jinn's head was. He was more mindful than this, I knew it.

He is toying with me. The thought sent a chill of brief terror through me. Of course he was-- the only problem with that was that the Left Hand of the Empire likely did not have the time nor the inclination to play long.

I internalized my fear and tightened my shields, thinking of how I'd nearly eaten that blaster shot. I resolved to remind Jinn that I'm much better looking with the front of my head at least partially intact.

I trotted down the stairs, brushing plaster dust from the dark leather of my uniform. There was no one else in the building, but Jinn surely knew I was there. His senses stretched much further than mine. I felt another shudder of apprehension as I wondered if he was feeling me now, watching. I could not afford to lower my shielding to find out, and he was too well cloaked.

I reached the exit of the building: shattered electronic bay doors. Crossing the threshold, I began to walk away-- then immediately felt my own death sweeping down on me.

With almost involuntary speed, I found myself, heart pounding with effort and terror, holding the entire fa�ade of the building up with a netting of Force energy. My earlier anger and my current near-panicked state augmented my strength, allowing me to support the structure-- barely. It leaned precariously toward me, thirty stories of perfectly sheared-off fronting. Grunting with the effort, I held my hands before me and constructed an invisible support wall as I tried to stabilize the enormous fa�ade. Then I felt it: the upper segments were breaking loose, curling forward under their own weight and the odd angle they were never meant to maintain.

The strain itself would kill me even if the wall didn't come down on my head. Heaving upward with a huge, painful effort, I slammed the wall back into place and bolted for the doorway, ducking and rolling back into the building, crouching against a far corner as the wall essentially crumpled on itself, piling several tonnes of plasteel and stone where I had been standing.

Gasping for air, I turned my face away as a cloud of plaster dust billowed into the now-faceless building after me. My body was tense and aching with the sharp rush of adrenaline and the fright of having nearly died. I braced a hand on the wall beside me and struggled to stand, yelping in pain as I realized I'd dislocated my shoulder, probably during the frantic roll through the door.

Gritting my teeth, I drew on my fear of discovery and used my good arm to swing the other one upward until it reseated with a sickening, crunching pop. "Bastard," I growled, letting out a grunting cry at the sharp pain. Flashes lit behind my eyes and I slumped to the wall, dizzy with effort, overexertion of the Force and sudden exhaustion. I decided to upgrade my curse: "Fucking bastard."

But I wasn't going to be given a chance to rest and recover. At the moment, I couldn't even focus enough to shield. I began to mutter the Litany of Power, reciting the names of the ancients to keep myself from succumbing to my tiredness. When that didn't work, I started calculating the arc of descent of the facade, wondering if it might have been easier to bolt around the side of the building. No, too risky. I had been too stunned to properly calculate the speed at which I'd have to go, and a Force-enhanced run hadn't even crossed my mind.

"Damn it," I breathed, clutching my injured arm-- my dominant arm-- and trudged out, carefully climbing the massive pile of rubble and moving on. I recalled the latest current events bulletins as I pieced my shields back together and struggled to control my pain. Distraction, I needed distraction.

I mentally chanted the names of our enemies, the top-level roster of the Resistance movement. The Lightsider we most concerned ourselves with was the last leader's successor, this ridiculous little kid who aspired, somehow, to be the savior of the galaxy. "Balance" and all that shit. The most laughable thing was that they were so deeply embedded in their dogma that they couldn't see that the whole Empire was sniggering at their nauseating "and a child shall lead them" crap.

As I worked my way to another part of the training site, I admitted privately-- very privately-- that Crionis hadn't always been a lousy master. He'd done some good for the Order and had earned his keep for a while. If he'd been completely worthless, I wouldn't have come out of his training good for a damn. He had, after all, located and killed Dooku, who had been a thorn in our collective side for decades.

Granted, Dooku's kindness and sympathy had made him weak, and the premise that he worked toward was unsound: did people really understand how much trouble freedom was to maintain? How difficult it was? The current system was perfect. You kept your head down, you paid your respects and your taxes, and you didn't waste time with opinions or even much thought. No one had to be educated; no one had to be culturally knowledgeable. Freedom required so much damned dedication that it wasn't even a viable option in this universe. Why couldn't they see that?

As time passed, I noticed that my mental digression had helped me quite a bit. My shields were almost intact. I wasn't invisible in the Force, but my presence was muffled enough that I could buy myself some time.

I came to a light post that had, somehow, been crushed in the middle and folded over. Examining the pole closely, I could see a crusty sheen of what looked like dried foam around the dented metal. Whatever did that had a huge mouth, then, big enough to crush a lamppost with its jaws-- and huge claws. There were gouges in the street wider than my thumb. This thing had a great deal of physical strength. Obviously I couldn't squelch my pain enough to hide properly, but if I couldn't disappear, then I was going to need a good defensive strategy.

Internalizing as much pain as I could and fighting back the wave of nausea that it caused, I began to track a huge, nameless beast that could bite light poles in half.

The day had passed much as I expected. There had been a few minor fluctuations in the Force as Kenobi dealt with the everyday dangers of the lower levels, and he had triggered more traps, all of which he'd dealt with competently. But the fear was building in him. He knew that, should he survive this day he'd have me hunting him while he was exhausted. The air in the lower levels is hot and smells bad. He'd be thirsty and tired and the poor lighting would only confuse him more. He would have dealt with much of this sort of thing in his training, but there success had not meant giving himself up for torture.

I remained awake through the night, using the occasional flashes of Kenobi's fear to heighten my anticipation. Most of the time my targets, my prey, don't know that I'm hunting them. But this, this was different. The only true prey for a Sith is another Sith, and this apprentice was proving excellent prey. His fear and tension engendered another tension in me and I took Dar more than once during the night.

Finally, I looked at the time display. The boy had another hour before I entered the hunt. I bathed and called for Dar to come and help me dress. I looked at his cowed face and smiled tightly. In a week, if Kenobi survived, I'd have someone much more to my liking at my beck and call. The thought of all that angry beauty at my disposal to help me with the urgent need I felt after missions added to my anticipation of the hunt. This was going to be delicious.

I tracked the beast exhaustively, managing to evade more traps and renewing my curses against the Sith Lord who had orchestrated this whole ordeal. Eventually I found myself just outside the creature's lair, a squat stone structure that had been hollowed out, apparently with claws. It looked like it might once have been the base of a statue. Judging by the size of the den, the creature was not nearly as large as I'd anticipated-- which meant it was incredibly strong for its size. It was inside, apparently-- hopefully-- sleeping.

I moved silently to the side of the makeshift cave, glancing around. I needed to be up on something high, but not on something that could be knocked down (or bitten in half). The problem was I couldn't gauge how weakened the structures were in this part of the underside.

Deciding I'd better take my chances, I climbed up a broken stone stairwell and into a hole just inside the entrance of a dilapidated plasteel building. I could be seen, but I could see, and the thick wall would buy me time if I had to make an escape.

I had tracked the animal for several hours, unsure of the time span in the scattered, unnatural light that bathed the lower levels. It had taken me a good long time to still myself after I'd injured my arm, and Jinn's traps were frequent and effective. I'd dodged blaster shots from mechanisms that were triggered by motion and I'd narrowly avoided being run through by a spearing device that I'd set off by laying my hand on a corner of wall. He was good, and he didn't fuck around much, for all that he seemed to regard this as a game. I could almost feel his mocking laughter every time I avoided something he'd placed. But I was good, too, and my anger and desire for power were keen.

But I needed rest, I needed a drink of water-- hells, I needed to piss. Rising carefully, still concerned about the noise even inside the building, I moved to the other side and did it out of a hollowed-out doorway. Distantly I hoped that Jinn kept better arrangements than these. His outpost hadn't exactly been luxurious, not by a long shot. Still, it made little enough difference. There wasn't anyone else I was willing to train under: it was Jinn or no one. It didn't much matter if he didn't keep plush accommodations at the Temple or elsewhere. Oh, I could make it on my own-- probably very well-- but I knew I'd never be as powerful or as feared as I wanted to be. Not without him.

I laced up my leathers and peered into the weird gloom. It wasn't time yet. Of course Jinn wasn't one to pull any punches, but this didn't feel like him, shielded or not. Surely--

No, Jinn would have been tracking me carefully. There was no reason he would approach from this side. Cautiously, I stretched out, ducking behind a solid metal pillar, the only thing to hide behind in a building made out of fucking plasteel. I began to doubt the soundness of my judgment.

It was another under-dweller; he seemed less crazed than the last one but not by much. This one appeared to be unarmed but he might as well have been firing cannon shots for all that he could screw up my plans. He was moving right toward the beast's nap spot, and I didn't know what kind of sleeper I was dealing with.

Focusing as best I could, knowing I would end up facilitating Jinn's search for me, but unwilling to risk the alternative, I made a gesture in the direction of the humanoid. He stopped, then slumped to the ground in a pile as his neck snapped sharply-- and too loudly.

Damn it! I whirled, listening, feeling, wondering if the beast had heard and awakened.

But there was nothing. Sighing, satisfied that I had averted a crisis, I stalked carefully back to my place just inside the doorway, hiding behind another metal column. Now, I only had to wait.

When I finally began hunting him, his pain called to me, leading me on a torturous route through the lower levels. His shielding was surprisingly good for someone as young, as tired and in as much pain as he was. It didn't matter, I still found him easy to follow, my natural affinity for pain leading me ever on.

I found a few other subtle traces of his passing, although he was proving to be better game than I had expected. If it hadn't been for my ability in the Dark Force I would have been hard pressed to find him. There was a sharp, concentrated burst of the Force at one point, and then the feeling of death. He must have had to kill another under-dweller. Along with the return of his shields, I felt a faint rush of satisfaction and fear.

I think it was his satisfaction that made me sure that he was the one. The apprentice I'd been looking for all my life, the one who would be worthy of everything I had to teach. Not that Sulo hadn't been worthy, but her talents had led her to become one of the Order's spies. This boy might be a half way decent spy someday, but I knew he would fare far better as an assassin.

When he arrived, he did so silently. Oh, if he had surprised the beast with noise or clumsiness I'd immediately have wondered what else he had planned. As I'd been reminding myself all along, Jinn wasn't Jinn for nothing. He'd be careful because he wasn't about to underestimate me. Well, neither was I about to underestimate him. I had an injured shoulder-- I was sure he knew that-- and I'd survived his twenty-four hour cycle. He wasn't going to greet me with a warm smile and open arms. Looking back, I realized most of the cycle was a haze of pain and sharply focused shielding. It didn't matter. I'd passed his test. He had come to retrieve me, but I sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy for him. I leaned over carefully, peering around the column I was crouched behind.

He was circling the den cautiously now. I could feel him sweeping around for me carefully, testing hiding places and scoping. It wasn't going to take him long to find me.

I had once worked briefly with a Corellian gambler who used to say, "Sometimes you have to blow your hand to win the big pot," and now of course I had come to that stage. It was time to blow my hand.

Focusing on the entrance to the den as I'd seen it when I'd approached, I made a shaky motion with the Dark Force and disturbed some of the rubble there. Jinn turned sharply, watching, listening. He stopped breathing so that he could hear better, sense more. I pushed hard and did it again, losing my tenuous grip on my shields and completely destroying my already lousy cover.

I felt hard triumph ripple through the Force to me as he turned directly to the building I was in and began to stride toward where I was hiding. He was about to take the steps up when the animal snorted from inside its den. I turned to the other side of the column to see, but I could only see the back of the den, a great oblong block of stone. That was until the creature let out two low, booming barks and set a paw out.

It was long and flat, not huge, necessarily, but like a great cross between a caninoid's foot and a water bird's paddle. That foot seemed perfect for digging or swatting. Then, it stepped forward, and I could see it clearly. It was a light brown thing with thin fur, easily a human head taller than Jinn; possibly twice his height if it were to stand up on its hindquarters. Its body was rather like a canine's but for the feet. Its head was sleek and broad at the same time, easily as wide across as Jinn's chest. It rather looked like it belonged on a watery planet. I wondered idly how many under-dwellers it ate a day. I turned around to look at Jinn.

He was backing away from the stairwell. He glanced up, glaring directly at me. Smirking at him, I nodded and turned again, pressing myself against the column to watch.

I had finally tracked him to a darkened building. I approached carefully; there was nothing in the rules that said he couldn't attack me and if he did any injury to me, well, I would deserve it. A faint surge in the Force was followed by the clatter of rubble ahead of me. What was the boy doing, I wondered as I held my breath, testing my surroundings with augmented senses. He was here, fairly close; I whirled as I felt another clatter of debris and a stronger pulse in The Force. I allowed myself a tight smile of triumph. I had him.

As I moved toward the part of the building he was hiding in, I heard a series of noises, animal noises. My admiration for Kenobi increased even as the broad paw appeared in front of me. Clever boy, trying to lure me into a trap. Not that it would work of course, but the thought counted for something.

The paw belonged to a slurg, a rather stupid but extremely strong creature that lived off weaker beasts and whatever garbage it could find. As I backed away, drawing it into range, I felt a faintly mocking amusement from the boy, who was no longer even bothering to shield. I glanced up, seeing him leaning against a column. I nodded, acknowledging his presence before turning my attention to the slurg.

I had killed several of these things before, once even managing the task with nothing more than a blade. I had no intention of repeating that battle now; I needed to end this encounter quickly. I drew my 'saber, its black-violet blade glowing eerily in the half-light of the building. A few feints and the destruction of part of a wall soon had the slurg's attention and I advanced on it, moving my blade to keep its eyes focused where I wanted them-- and to keep the boy's attention where I wanted it. Wielding my blade with my right hand, I reached into my sash with my left and removed a small blaster. As the slurg, eyes hurting from the light of my 'saber, advanced, I calmly shot it directly between the eyes, vaporizing a clean hole in its skull and dropping it neatly in its tracks.

I smiled up at Kenobi, registering his surprise. Keeping my blade before me, I holstered the blaster as I advanced on him. "A predictable Sith is a dead Sith," I said conversationally, and nodded toward the dead beast. "That was... somewhat clever of you." Oddly, he flushed at the praise, and I shook my head. "But not nearly clever enough."

I gestured with my 'saber and waited to see if he would attack or surrender. He toyed with his 'saber hilt for minute before he moved both hands away from his body. I'd rarely seen anyone look quite so proud as they surrendered. I was pleased with his decision; he would soon need every scrap of strength he had.

Without even a gesture, I circled his wrists with a tendril of Dark Force, dragging and then binding them behind his back. Then I approached up the stairs, watching his reaction closely. Although he was frightened, his face showed no fear. Well, I thought, gathering the Force around me, that may soon change. A gesture and a visible Force net descended around his upper body, trapping him in loops of pure energy. He instinctively struggled only to discover that the more he moved, the tighter the net became. He swallowed hard and went still as I reached him.

"That rather depends on you," I replied, reaching inside the net to remove his 'saber. Tucking it into my sash, I turned my back on him and headed down the stairs. "You can remain where you are and become food for the slurg's mate when he returns to the den, or you can come with me. If it is death you seek, then I suggest you stay; the slurg will be much kinder than I."

It wasn't far to his speeder. I followed after him, stepping carefully, mindful of the fact that among all the debris and rubble I had little balance without the use of my arms, save augmenting myself with the Force.

Jinn hauled me over his shoulder like so much luggage and straddled the speeder bike; I wasn't expecting any better. My shoulder pained me sharply and I released it, knowing I was about to suffer more pain than I could safely internalize. I began to recognize the area and realized that the testing site had been arranged so that my only options had led me close to his stronghold. Convenient, that. He could send prey out, toy with it for a day and then practically step out onto his doorstep to retrieve it. Only I doubted that he had actually retrieved much prey. Surely he didn't bother himself with the dead bodies-- or the pieces of them-- that were left behind.

He dismounted the bike and carried me down a dark stairwell, into a cool, dank cellar.

I cursed silently as he set me on my feet again, deliberately steadying me by gripping my injured shoulder. Bright flashes lit behind my eyes again; this was going to be a bitch to get over, and he was just the kind to exploit it roughly. I muttered expletives under my breath; I'd prepared, I'd strengthened my pain tolerance, I'd even stretched myself internally in anticipation for the sexual violation I knew would follow, but of course in my pride I'd never considered that I'd get myself hurt. It did not bode well for me.

The torture chamber under the stronghold was classic, almost trite but for the fact that there were several devices whose purpose I couldn't even begin to work out. I snorted and bit back a sharp comment on how ostentatious it all was. He didn't seem like the kind who would let machines do his dirty work.

He studied me for a moment and then abruptly the Force net was gone and my clothes were peeled from me, my tunics and jacket simply shredded and removed as he never released my arms. When it came to my boots, he flicked his fingers, causing the buckles to ripple open. When I didn't move, he raised an eyebrow.

"You can step out of them or I can rip them off forcibly," he offered congenially. "You'll be on your back before long; you don't really want to get there that way, do you?"

I stepped on the heel of one and then the other, pulling my feet out of the boots and suppressing a spike of fear. Soon enough I was naked, my hands still bound behind my back and my 'saber still out of my reach. The urge to fight, to defend myself, was strong. I squelched it. I was good but I wasn't stupid enough to believe I was that good, and I did not want to die at his hands. Not like this. Shifting my weight to one hip, I glared, waiting.

Stripped of his leathers, he looked smaller and younger, even lovelier than I had expected. He could tell I was looking him over and he scowled at me. I just smiled and circled him, examining him closely. He had the scars one would expect; apprentices weren't allowed to pick and choose their scars. The most notable, besides the one on his face was a twisted burn on the back of his thigh, undoubtedly a 'saber scar.

"That was Crionis' doing," he replied, his lip curling. "When he took me as his apprentice he spent two days breaking me and on the second day he slammed me into a post in one of the Punishment Arenas."

Somehow I was not surprised. "He always did lack finesse. Of course he could never stand to have someone around who was prettier than he is." I smiled tightly. "I think it makes you look ... better, actually."

He looked away as I continued my inspection. Looking at his thigh I lightly stroked the burn. "This burn on your thigh: 'saber mishap?" He twitched and then shivered, reinforcing my initial impression. Tenderness scared this boy far more than pain. Go ahead, Kenobi, give me even more to work with. It was a rare Sith who understood that a gentle gesture at the right time could utterly confuse his prey.

He snorted dismissively. "Not my mishap. I was training with Bruck Chun; he slipped. I ran him through for it. They healed him, but almost killing him made me feel better."

Of course I had never had any intentions of burdening myself with another apprentice after my last one, but the opportunity to get a dig in was too tempting to pass up. Kenobi's disdain for the other apprentice was evident. I was amused, it was ironic that the two were rivals, given my life long rivalry with Chun's master, Mace Windu. Like master, like apprentice: both were bullies.

Kenobi just smiled at my words, obviously inured to verbal taunting. Xanatos had always been good at that sort of thing.

He looked away. "He beat me, predictably, every time. With his fists. Sometimes he kicked, but not often."

I shook my head. "How original. Don't worry, I have no intention of damaging my knuckles on you." The smile I gave him at that point was not intended to be reassuring.

"Enough of this," I said suddenly after a moment of silence. I reached out, ghosting my hand over his dislocated shoulder. Before he had time to react, I grabbed him by that arm, dragging him to the center of the room. A call to the Force and the cuffs descended from the ceiling.

As he grimaced, I grabbed his wrists and locked him into the cuffs, while directing the cuffs on the floor to his ankles. Soon he was suspended, legs spread, feet barely touching the floor. I felt the first anticipatory warmth coiling in my groin. This was no slave from the brothel trade, but a fellow Sith, trained to turn pain and anger into strength.

I'm not an Inquisitor, but on occasion I have had to question my victims before killing them. I enjoyed it then and I had every intention of enjoying it now. Moving to one of the racks of instruments, I chose a heavy, long, single-tailed whip. It was constructed of braided plasteel and would sting even as it dug into the boy's fair skin.

"Shall we begin?" I asked, coiling the whip and gently stroking his chest with it.

Pleased with his courage, I drew back and sent the whip out flying, my full strength behind it. The tip dug into his belly, right above his navel. He screamed through gritted teeth and I let the pain and the sound of his voice wash over me, fueling the fire in my groin.

The whip whined through the air again, this time coiling tightly around his thigh, just below his heavy cock. His shriek was sweet in my ears as I pulled the whip back hard; watching the burn mark appear on his skin as the whip wound away from his tender skin.

I looked up to catch his glare and lazily smiled at him, sending out a broad wave of lust at him. The whip sang out again, this time slicing across his chest, the tip digging into his nipple. "That's right, pretty boy, scream for me." My next blow caught his other nipple. His voice seemed to rip out of his throat, dragged out of him, and his cock twitched.

I smiled. Oh yes, I'd been right about him. Pain, anger and fear were a powerful, heady combination of feelings and we were just beginning the journey. I circled behind him and began working his back over, placing my blows with care, not giving him any rhythm to work with. Every once in a while I'd circle back around, and as the session went on, I was able to return to earlier marks, splitting the skin open in some cases.

Through it all, he sang for me, screams of pain and rage that echoed through the room and in my brain. This was better than I had anticipated.

When I finally let the whip fall to my side, he was panting and his screams were hoarse. It was time for something for a little more delicate. His eyes followed my hand as it dipped to the top of my boot to remove the slender, almost delicate looking knife I kept there. It had been my master's knife, forged for him out of Slee silver. I'd taken it from his boot the night I killed him; except for my training, it was the only thing of his that remained with me.

I approached Kenobi and caressed his mouth with the flat of the blade. He went still, controlling his heaving chest with surprising strength. He didn't control his fear nearly as well; it poured out of him like smoke and I had to close my eyes briefly at the pure strength of it.

Then I moved. Drawing on the Dark Force to enhance my speed, I brought the knife down and made a shallow cut along his ribs. He gasped and stared down at the cut in fascination. I waited until the blood welled up and one drop rolled down his pale skin before I caught him under the chin with the point of the knife, forcing him to raise his head. He met my eyes unflinchingly although his fear still hovered over us in a seductive cloud. Mixed with that fear was desire, building slowly but steadily.

I would call him on it later; now I flicked the knife carelessly, watching him track it as far as he could until it bit into his earlobe, drawing more blood. His breath hitched in his throat, and his nostrils twitched slightly, instinctively seeking the scent of his own blood. Still, he remained still and silent.

I reached above his head to make several shallow cuts along his forearm. The blade was sharp enough that they didn't hurt as they were made. They would later. Through it all, he remained calm, hiding his slowly building hunger behind narrowed gray-blue eyes. I cocked an eyebrow at him and casually reached down, using the blade to reopen one of the whip marks on his thigh. I went deeper this time, bringing blood to the surface almost immediately. He closed his eyes at the pain, taking it in and hoarding it to bolster his strength.

As I moved on, I thought about Xanatos Crionis trying to master this boy. What a waste, and yet, had it not been for my former student's sheer laziness, Kenobi would never have sought me out. Earlier, he had acted as if I should be flattered, the spoiled little brat. But as I felt him sinking deeper and deeper into the haze of pain and blood I was creating around us, I was flattered, or at least pleased he had come to me. All of his childish arrogance aside, he was right, I could raise him up to be a Sith Lord I could be proud of. I wondered if I would survive his Elevation, and then dismissed the thought, choosing to concentrate on the moment and this lovely boy who was suffering so beautifully before me.

By the time I let my hand fall to my side, he was scored in dozens of places, small runnels of blood trickling down his body, the copper scent of it sweet on the air. His eyes were closed and one would have thought him to be lost in meditation, deep in the mysteries of the Dark Force, were it not for his occasional gasps each time my knife went deeper than the surface. And of course there was the fact that he was half erect, his lovely cock betraying his hunger.

"You seem to be enjoying this," I said casually, breaking the long silence. The knife slid along his thigh, opening another long scratch. His jaw clenched but he said nothing.

I brought the wicked tip of the knife up to rest against one nipple, not drawing blood, but letting the pressure tell him that I could. Hs cock twitched and filled further. "Do you always get hard when someone's hurting you?"

"I'm flattered," I chuckled as I guided the knife to the underside of his arm, leaving another line of blood against tender skin. I felt a wash of hatred, but was unable to tell if it was aimed at me, or the situation. Or both. Underlying it was something else, a vague sense of neediness that he probably wasn't even aware of.

It came as no surprise to me. By Kenobi's own accounting, his master had never shown him the least amount of attention, had never thought to tailor his lessons to his apprentice's strengths and weaknesses. My attention may have frightened him, but it called to him as well.

"When we met, I asked you if you disliked me. You said you hated me." I slapped the flat of the blade against the most recent cut. "Were you lying?"

I laughed, amused in spite of myself. "Such careful language. I seem to recall noticing another feeling from you that day. I told you I'd have it out of you." I dragged the edge of the blade along his throat, not breaking the skin.

He tilted his had slightly. "What a joke. If you were going to kill me I'd be dead already.

Arrogant fool. Did he remember who he was dealing with? I followed the edge with the point, decorating his neck with a circlet of tiny beads of blood.

"That's what you think, boy. Did you know that I once tortured a Jedi at the behest of the Order? I got everything I needed from him and then used this same knife to make hundreds of very shallow cuts," and here I demonstrated, gracing his rib cage once again, "all over his body. Then I injected him with anti-coagulants and watched him bleed to death. It took a very long time."

I paused closing my eyes, smiling slightly, remembering the handsome Lightsider trying to remain serene while his life drained away. "He was pretty, but not as pretty as you. If I choose to kill you maybe I'll do it that way."

He shivered and I felt another wave of fear rush through him. Enough, I would have it from him now.

He fought to calm his breathing, dropping his eyes from mine. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "I'm afraid of you."

I shivered, the simple words making me almost painfully aware of the erection I'd been ignoring while torturing him. "Yes," I said, the husky quality of my voice surprising me. I took a moment to collect myself. Not yet. Soon, but not yet. "And you're not used to that are you?"

"No," he replied and his anger was almost as sweet as his fear. "I'm not used to it." He looked me up and down, undoubtedly noticing the bulge of my erection against my leathers. He was holding back on me.

"Get used to it," I told him flatly. "And you have something else to say?" It wasn't quite a question, and I tapped the knife against the scar on his face demanding an answer.

He hesitated and I could tell he was calling on his fear and anger for strength. "You're not used to this either. Not used to someone sinking into the pain so readily." His breath was shaky, but I had to admire his courage, if only privately.

Knowing that pain was the key here, I sliced a deep burning cut across his hip, drawing blood instantly.

"Don't flatter yourself, boy, " I told him, my voice cold. "I have a regular supplier of pretty boy and girls who take pain quite nicely."

He shuddered, and I was unsure if it was at the pain or at my tone of voice. Not that it mattered, as I watched his erection curve upward towards his belly, dark red against a backdrop of pale skin and streaks of blood. Arousal hummed in the air between us, not all of it mine.

"And now you think I'm going to fuck you," I mocked. "You want me to fuck you."

He tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his smile. "I've always wanted you to fuck me."

I moved away from him, speaking dryly. "How flattering. Well," I gestured, releasing all the cuffs at once, dropping him to the floor suddenly. "Let's see what you're made of."

My tone of voice stung him, but he rose quickly, if a little unsteady on his feet, to face me squarely. I reached out and grabbed his upper arm, deliberately choosing the injured one. He winced, but followed as I dragged him over to a corner.

When he saw what waited for him, he shuddered, deeply disturbed. I could hardly blame him, the thing that sat in the corner in a stark column of light was enough to disturb even the bravest of Sith. A motor housed in a black case, attached to a sleek steel framework, it was a fairly simple machine as torture devices go. Thrusting out from the motor on a long metal shaft, was a bone white, ridged dildo. It was large, but no larger than my own cock; I had no desire to do permanent damage, although my own past had taught me that the human body could take far more than this and survive.

I thrust the memories back inside my chest, thanking them for the strength they continued to give me. Kenobi must have sensed something for he suddenly looked at me, his eyes wide and terrified. I let the slow burn of desire curl through me and smiled at him.

"They use them in low level brothels to train the boys." I paused looking him over, as if considering something. "If I decide not to take you on, I'll probably have you permanently Force-blinded and sell you to one of the houses." He drew himself up, but did not pull away, his expression one of obvious false bravado. The memories returned, clawing at me as I went on.

"You'd be lucky; you'd probably only see perhaps ... ten or fifteen men a night. A strong boy like yourself, even without the Dark Force ... yes, you might last a whole year. Of course if you can sink into pain like that for anyone, you'd be kept alive much longer."

He half shrugged, and I could feel him drawing on the strength of the pain from the cuts, the beating and his injured shoulder. I was impressed in spite of myself; he handled verbal taunting well. "But I digress...."

He just looked at me, waiting, toying casually with a cut on his arm. I called a set of thigh cuffs to my hand, placing them on him quickly. Ankle and wrist cuffs followed them, and then I shoved the boy face down, his belly resting on a low bench in front of the machine. A wave of my hand and his ankles were pulled up and bound to his thighs, leaving him helplessly open. Another wave and the rings on the thigh cuffs linked to the bench, as did the wrist cuffs. He moved carefully, testing the limits of his confinement as he'd been trained to do.

I moved the machine into place, taking my time about adjusting it, letting his fear grow. By the time I guided the dildo against him he was barely able to hide his terror. I paused, drinking in the stark fear emanating from him before thrusting the thing inside him hard. He screamed, the sound harsh and drawn out behind his clenched teeth.

I moved to crouch in front of him, close enough to almost share breath. When I spoke, my voice was soft and gentle, tones he had probably never heard from another Sith, if from anyone. "I'm going to turn this on and let it have you." Seeing how shaken my voice left him, I reached out and very gently traced the curve of his lips with my thumb. He looked at me, eyes wide and inky with fear. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his scar, breathing in the pure terror he felt at my bizarre gentleness. I smiled softly at him and then rose to my feet.

The torture session had left me acutely attuned to his body and I could feel him bracing himself, deliberately holding himself as open as he could against the approaching onslaught. I flicked my fingers lightly and the machine started up, driving the phallus into him slowly but steadily. The motion pulled it out about half way with each thrust before it moved back into him. Unlike even the strongest of human partners, it would never tire, never change its rhythm.

I don't know how long I'd been on the thing before the pain became consuming, too huge to release and too much to contain. I had held myself open for as long as I could focus and then I had slumped to the bench, taking the mechanically paced torture without any assistance. I let my anger grow with the pain, gritting my teeth against the screams that wanted to come. I swallowed it, letting it fill my heart and my gut, setting me on fire until it was too much. I was filled with the power of it, the loose thrill of all that anger, and could do nothing. Would do nothing, really: there was too much at stake, too much to lose. Even my pain and anger and the fear that he would kill me like this, just leave me here being fucked into oblivion by this machine, wasn't enough to make me act. "Submit," he had said, and I was doing it.

The realization wrenched itself out of me in a contained shriek as the machine dug in yet again, again, again, methodical thrusts that tore into me repeatedly until my entire existence was in the rasp of my throat and the spiking, burning pain inside me. Visions came to me, products of the Dark Unification, and I screamed openly then at the searing agony in my head that came with them. Yellow ships, a docking bay, a young man.

Filtered through a dense, red haze, Lord Jinn paced angrily inside a tightly enclosed space, snarling. Through another layer of haze, a man knelt calmly, cloaked in the damnable serenity and beige uniform that marked the Jedi of the Resistance. He was in a round room, just outside the contained area where we were trapped. He was slender and tall; very powerful in the Force, but only a messenger, for all that. His head was shaved around short, squat horns that crowned his scalp, almost in a parody of the spiked hairstyle that marked a Sith apprentice. Of course his ridiculous looks could not be helped. There was a dark braid descending from one temple.

And then the red hazes parted, one at a time, clearing the way. We launched ourselves through the containment fields into a small, round chamber, Jinn's black violet blade flashing, contrasting with the livid red of my own and the calm green of the Jedi's. This Jedi was good, fast, extremely powerful, the battle extending long and hard. For two Sith as powerful as we to be held off by someone younger than me angered me, infuriated me, suffused me with pained hatred.

Sharp, clear of vision and sunk into the immediate future, I Saw within Seeing, clutching my 'saber tightly and shoving Jinn out of the way as the nameless, yellow-eyed Jedi thrust, impaling me where the Lord had been standing. The pain arced through me as I slumped to the floor in the vision. I felt Darkness clawing for me as Jinn leapt over my body in a state of high rage and Force-shoved the Jedi off-balance, knocking his 'saber loose. Then the violet blade descended and crossed, neatly bisecting the young body. Two perfect halves crumpled to the floor and he kicked them, cursing, into the melting pit, watching them fall with satisfaction before he remembered that I lay there dying.

Of all the things I could have subjected Kenobi to, the machine was the worst. For a boy with his exaggerated sense of self-importance and obvious awareness of his own beauty, it would be incredibly humiliating. He had expected me to rape him. He had, according to his own words, always wanted me to fuck him. And he knew well enough that for a Sith, the line between fucking and rape is based solely on the willingness of one's partner. Tender love play is for the stupid cattle that make up the Empire.

But he had expected, wanted me, not this brutal machine that was tearing into him with inexorable strength. What he needed to realize was that the machine was me, was doing this to him at my command. A Sith apprentice cannot demand, cannot even expect things. He or she must simply submit until such time as they learn all that the master chooses to impart to them, or they actually manage to surpass the master.

Kenobi's own expectations had led him into this situation. Had he feared my touch more, I'd have simply taken him. Then again, I thought as I looked at his body, bound to the bench and shuddering as much as was possible in the bindings, maybe not. The way he tried to accept the pain, the way he tried to hold back his screams and internalize the fear that I would let him die like this, it was all intoxicating. I opened myself up to it, absorbing the sheer life of him, the beauty of his suffering.

And then I felt it, or rather I felt two different things. One came from Kenobi: somehow he was accessing the Unified side of the Dark Force. My own strengths did not lie in that area beyond the ability to predict motions in the seconds before they are made, a talent all Force users posses. As near as I could tell, however, he was deep in a vision, Seeing something either past or present.

As intriguing as Kenobi's state of mind was, my survival instincts forced me to pay much closer attention to the outside surge in the Force. It had an all too recognizable signature. I shook my head.

As I moved to release Kenobi from the machine, I smiled. My former apprentice was in for quite a surprise.

In disbelief, I stood almost outside myself, feeling him pull me off the machine and stand me up. My entire being, my consciousness, my soul was nothing but pain and anger and Vision and the fear had long since set in that I would be ripped apart from the inside before he deigned to shut the machine down.

Through the haze of pain and hatred I heard dim, distant words. At first they didn't make sense; it seemed he was asking me to get dressed and take responsibility for something, but nothing registered. No one ever used my first name.

A hard slap cracked across my face, inflaming an already bruised and swollen cheek. My head rocked back and distantly I wondered why I wasn't on the floor, even as I tasted fresh blood.

"Listen to me, boy. I know you're hurting but here is your chance to prove yourself. Xanatos is coming. I need you to kill him for me."

I blinked at him dully. I know you're hurting but I need you echoed in my head along with the name he had called me, my given name, almost an endearment coming from those lips. I could feel the crooked smile spreading across my face even as my brain piped up, reminding me that Jinn needed no one. Clarity began to dawn and I closed my eyes, pulling in a breath and drawing the Dark Force around me.

Need or not, he was telling me to kill my old master-- and that I would do with relish.

I bent and tugged my pants on, nearly falling over as the blood rushed to my head and my equilibrium overturned. Jinn grabbed my elbow roughly, steadying me, and I glanced up at him suspiciously. Bastard was trying to win me over because I was about to do his dirty work. Fuck that.

I jerked my elbow away and stood, yanking my pants up and fastening them. The importance of what he was telling me to do hit me when he slapped my 'saber hilt into my hand.

"Do it, and you'll have a new master," he growled. "Don't, and it won't matter."

He was resplendent as always in black, seamed leather, cloakless and slender. His long, black hair was glossy and smooth in spite of taking what had to be the same windblown speeder trip I took to get here. Trust Xanatos Crionis to bring a comb into the Chief Assassin's lair. His face was flushed-- was he nervous?-- and the scar on his cheek was livid white.

He looked from me to Jinn and back again, taking in my bruises and cuts and abrasions, probably feeling the pain in my shoulder as keenly as his own.

"Master," he greeted, bowing shallowly, mocking Jinn as I had. I felt a flash of anger that Jinn didn't roughly correct him.

"Kenobi," Crionis said, lowering his voice, turning to me, as if he could suddenly win me back by sounding kind. He took a step forward and held his hand out.

I held my ground. I remembered when I'd had myself convinced-- nearly-- that I should want him. Conventionally, he's beautiful, and true to Dark form, he knows it and exploits it. He never had with me; he'd taken his due as a master and left it at that. If he'd tried to seduce me once, just once, he might have managed to keep me. I might not have perceived him as such a failure then because any advances on his part that didn't involve raping me without meeting my eyes would have sucked me right in. I might have actually wanted him.

Well, we all know what that leads to. "Want" got me hunted, beaten, raped by a machine for Force knew how many hours and ordered to kill the man who trained me.

I thumbed on my main blade, unmoving but for that one small gesture. My eyes never left his. So beautiful and so corrupt, but so weak. His sliminess was the only thing that had kept him alive for so long.

"Come on, now," he purred, glancing at Jinn and then back at me. I didn't know what to make of his sudden change-- and then it hit me. He had two choices: kill me and try for Jinn's alliance or bring me back and remain the quasi-success he'd always been. My former master would need protection if he lost me and the only one worthy enough to afford him that level of safety was the Left Hand of the Empire. But this much was clear: one way or the other, Crionis couldn't go back alone.

'Saber hanging lazily at my side, I took a step forward, marking the sharp aches all over me, inside and out. I was still bleeding in several places; I could feel it if I focused. I glanced back at the machine: yes, there was my blood. I trained my gaze on my former master and spat yet more blood off to one side, my gaze locking with his.

"You did this," I hissed, swinging my 'saber idly as I advanced, and I could feel the surprise rolling off of both of them, from the true Lord as well as the pathetic excuse for one. "You did this to me. You, who were so weak you lost one apprentice to the Light and the other to someone darker than you. You, you fucking bastard, who made it embarrassing to even be your apprentice. The same punishments, the same sex, the same training every time, all of that sameness is the greatest mark of a coward. Were you even fucking trying? If you had been, I wouldn't be here taking this pain, trying to win over the most fucking ruthless individual in the Empire just so I could make a name for myself. Some kind of name so that people wouldn't remember me as Kenobi, Master Fucking Crionis' Apprentice." And I launched myself at him, 'saber flashing red.

He was armed instantly, that damnable yellow-orange blade that represented everything I hated about him. As little as I thought of him, he was still a Sith Lord. He didn't deserve the title, but there it was. He parried and returned a strike and I batted it away impatiently, snarling. Every ache in my body flared to screaming wakefulness, the torn places inside me, the cuts on my arms and legs, the lash wounds all over my skin and most of all the screaming agony in my badly hurt shoulder. He came at me, pale eyes shining angrily as he tried to land a hit, something, anything. He was increasingly frustrated and eventually grew nervous that he couldn't make his blade contact the flesh of a battered, exhausted, overreaching apprentice. I fed off of it. His fear infused me deliciously and I could see why Jinn got off on it. It was fucking beautiful.

Crionis did this. He made me come here to attempt something nearly impossible. He made me what I was, someone who had bent and skirted the rules for so long that I thought I could just waltz into Qui-Gon Jinn's outpost and demand training. Well by the Dark I could do it, and no shit of a former master was going to stop me. I was not willing to die, but I would rather that than lower myself enough to be under Crionis again.

And damned if I was going to let him have the man I wanted as my master. The thought enabled me to draw enough anger to maintain a swift offensive. Crionis faltered, then stepped back. It was sweet and perfect, his fear mingling with the foreknowledge that he was about to be taken down.

My proprietary sense of righteousness fueled my anger. I began to advance steadily, drawing strength from the fact that Qui-Gon Jinn had given me a task. The completion of it would see me apprenticed before the end of the night. The Dark Force thrummed around me, anticipating a vicious death and I was not about to disappoint it.

I began to lead Crionis in a dance that mimicked the one we'd only just engaged in two days prior, the one that had cost him viable use of his left shoulder. He saw and smiled, thinking he knew.

Crionis, you idiot, the training bond never got you far enough into my head to know me-- whatever makes you think you can read me now?

I feinted and then leapt, landing on the bench I'd been strapped to for the machine. The change in tactics puzzled my opponent and he hesitated. I lunged, locked 'sabers with him and then lit my secondary blade, trapping his blade between mine. Startled, he reeled back, but not quickly enough. I twisted my hilt and tugged; his blade spun out of his control.

Guiding his lightsaber with a push of Force energy, I deactivated it and sent it spinning toward Jinn. An offering.

Jinn smiled. He extended his hand purely for the sake of display and kept the hilt suspended in mid-air, spinning. There was a high-pitched whine as he cast me a look that said plainly, Don't get cocky, boy. Then Crionis' 'saber hilt exploded, showering us with sparks and bits of debris.

I turned to my former teacher and lowered my voice, speaking deliberately and with cold menace. "They say that those who join the Force become powerful." I tipped my head back, looking down my nose at him before I speared him between the lungs as I had the useless under-dweller. The startled shriek and wide-eyed panic were like balm even as I forced healing energy along the blade. It hurt, oh fuck it hurt; Sith were never meant to heal and I was already overtaxed and in pain. But I did it anyway, threading enough power to him to keep him alive a moment longer, to share that overwhelming suffering, enough to reflect every hurt he'd ever caused me. He hitched in a breath and screamed again, his pale blue eyes wide and staring. Oh yes, his agony was better than orgasm.

"I think," I added slowly, toying with the second trigger on my hilt, "that the Force will make an exception in your case." I hit the switch and in half a second the rotation was complete. The body slid off my blades in a crumpled heap on the floor, a perfect circle seared into the middle of his chest, smoking lightly as the cored-out piece, cauterized and sealed into a solid mass, fell away. He didn't even have time to scream again. More's the pity.

"You're an arrogant wretch," he growled. "I might just like you enough not to kill you."

He bowed mockingly in reply to my praise and then ruined the gesture by almost falling over. I moved to catch him, but he straightened somewhat and glared at me.

"You've drained yourself," I said matter-of-factly as he looked at me distrustfully. "Hold still, this is going to hurt."

He snorted faintly, but obeyed as I focused on him. Gritting my teeth I braced myself for the pain and sent a burst of healing energy into him, watching as he winced and swore under his breath. But when I was done, he stood much easier. Expecting no gratitude, I wasn't surprised when he simply glared at me.

I was amused: not even formally my apprentice yet, and already he was setting conditions. I had no intention of letting him get away with it.

"That 'damned' machine will stay if I say it stays. You will accept anything from me, you fool, because I'm better than anyone else and can teach you things they can't."

I could see the awareness dawn on him, and he smiled, clearly settling in to negotiate. "This isn't just about the training, don't even kid yourself. You need a right hand and you know it. People are after you. You can teach me things, yes, and I can keep you from getting killed."

I leaned against a pillar and raised an eyebrow. His words sparked a deep curiosity in me; he had to be speaking of the vision he'd had while on the machine. When I spoke, my voice betrayed nothing of my interest. "And, yet, somehow, I've managed all my life without you."

"Ha! I've survived two Emperors. Now you're thinking I can't survive what? The Jedi brat?" My words obviously stung and he fell silent.

He glared at me. "So what if I have? You're the fucking Left Hand. Survived two Emperors. Made it all these years without me."

I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes. "You won't survive long with that attitude, boy. Do you think that I'd beg you to protect me?"

He flinched when I called him boy, although he tried to hide his irritation. "I don't expect you would beg for anything. I'm suggesting..." Here, he paused, obviously searching for the right words. "There are things we need from each other. I could walk away, and stay gone, make no mistake. Or you could kill me. Neither of us want that or it would already have happened."

He had a point. When I spoke, my voice was thoughtful. "And you think I need you."

I nodded at the certainty in his voice. "I see. Or rather I don't, but you do. How reliable is your foresight?"

"No," he replied in irritation. "I said I've never been wrong, I didn't say I see everything."

I nodded. "Good." We both knew that if he'd said yes, I'd have known he was lying to me. I may not have the gift, but I know how it works. I glanced at the dead body.

"I would leave." His voice was deathly quiet; he obviously recognized that we'd reached the end game.

"If you offered to let me stay, I would stay." He paused for a moment and then, his face grave, he bowed deeply from the waist, the bow of an apprentice to his master.

I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring my victory. In one day I had seen the death of my useless former student and gained not just an apprentice, but a successor. Not that Kenobi was to know that I thought of him that way.

"Come here, boy." When he approached I grabbed him by his arm, watching as he winced at the pain in his not-quite-healed shoulder. "It'll be a hard road."

When his eyes tightened slightly, I shook my head. "You think know what being an apprentice entails, but I will ask much more of you than he ever did." I flicked my gaze to the body. He followed my eyes, then looked back at me.

I smiled, remembering his earlier remark. "And if I want to just attach you to the machine and leave you there for a few hours?"

"And if I were to tell you to strip and go to your knees and elbows right here, would you?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. I saw a faint flicker of eagerness in his eyes.

He all but tore his pants off and then knelt, spreading his knees as he settled into position.

I reached out with my boot and nudged his knees further apart. "Nice. Are you doing this strictly out of duty? Or do you actually want it?"

I sensed his hesitation before he decided on honesty. "Because I want it," he admitted, his voice low but steady.

"Good. Never lie to me. Never. You may evade or keep silent but from this time forward, if I catch you in a lie, I'll kill you." I let my cloak slide to the floor behind me. "Now-- shoulders to the floor, reach back and hold yourself open for me."

I felt his angry humiliation color the Dark Force as he obeyed. Oh but he looked enticing. I knelt behind him, my hands at my belt, unable to resist taunting him. "So you like pain but not humiliation. You just gave me a very valuable training tool."

He remained silent and as I unfastened my leathers and prepared to enter him I could feel him bracing himself. Good, he'd need to; I'd been hard ever since I'd first let my whip caress his body. I entered with one sharp thrust and immediately set up a heavy rhythm. Very shortly I felt an answering arousal from him, although he did his best to keep it under control.

"Did he do this to you?" I asked, my voice hard. Given that we were only a few meters away from my old apprentice's corpse, I figured he'd know who I meant. Not to mention that no one save his master touches the apprentice of a Sith Lord. Memory flared and I amended the thought. No one touches a Sith apprentice without his master's permission.

"All the time," he replied his voice shaking from the pounding I was giving him.

"I'll usually hurt you first," I warned him. I dug my fingers into one of the deeper cuts on his upper arm. "And during."

He hissed but still kept his enjoyment under tight control. Oh no, my boy, you can't do that with me, I thought, stopping and reaching around to check his erection. He was fairly hard, just as I'd suspected.

"You like this," I said. Although it was not a question, my tone demanded an answer.

"Good, I'm pleased to hear it." I leaned over and bit his ear hard, tasting the blood from where I had cut him earlier. When I spoke again it was to whisper in his ear. "If I wanted passionless stoicism, I'd fuck a Jedi."

I felt his surprise and then, when I bit him again, he let out a hesitant grunt of pleasure. For some reason the idea that I was probably the first person, aside from himself, who'd ever made him feel sexual pleasure made this even better.

"That's right, boy," I said as I began to fuck him again. "Passion is a tool like any other. Learn to use it."

"Yes," I encouraged him. "I'm not Xanatos; I want to feel you come around my cock." My words sparked something in him and I felt the lust beginning to pour out of him like blood from an open wound. He grunted again, a low heavy sound. "That's it, boy," I grated through my teeth, "give it to me. Make me feel it." My own lust fed off his, flaring in the Dark Force that was beginning to build up around us.

"Oh!" He struggled up onto his hands, scrabbling for better leverage to thrust himself back against me. "Fuck... yeah...."

I groaned in response to his pleasure and bent over him, letting him bear my weight as I bit him hard at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It was enough to make him come, shuddering and yelling curses.

As his body tightened around me I reached for the Dark Force, staying my own climax in order to forge the training bond.

Pain surged between us as I spoke his name and ruthlessly invaded his mind, binding him to me for as long as I willed it. Forcing an intimate connection between two Sith can't help but be painful and I wasn't surprised when Kenobi screamed and yelled more obscenities mixed in with an occasional guttural "yes!"

Then I was shouting as well, my wordless cry echoing around the room loudly as I came into his tight, thrashing body. When the orgasm was done ripping its way through me I slumped over him, bearing him down to the cold stone floor.

We were silent for a moment, the harsh pleasure still resonating between us, and then he chuckled. "Yeah. You liked it too."

I laughed in return. "Well, of course I did. I knew you'd be delicious as soon as you dislocated your arm." I grabbed the still tender shoulder. "I'm going to enjoying having you."

I reached to his other shoulder and pressed my hand against the livid bite mark I'd left. The pain caused him to jump and I smiled to myself as I bent down to gently press my lips against the same spot. I felt his suspicion through the bond and smiled again.

I followed his gaze with my own. "Well, I suppose you should throw the garbage out. Take some of his hair. You've earned it."

He shifted, unceremoniously dumping me to the floor. I was amused, pleased that he would constantly test the boundaries this way. All well and good, but he would quickly learn that the boundaries never stayed the same from one minute to the next.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he collected his pants. I could feel his skepticism. An apprentice's skills are always considered a reflection on his master. To be allowed to take the traditional trophy of hair from a kill is unheard of.

"You can try to take mine someday," I said leaning on my elbow, not bothering to fasten my pants. What I'd done to him had merely taken the edge off; I would have him at least once more before we returned to the Temple.

He looked at me and shivered slightly, fueling my desire for him, and calling his 'saber to him. He used the smaller of the blades to cut a lock of Xanatos' hair, which he then braided with a touch of the Force before tucking it into a pouch on his belt.

I smiled lazily and pulled my knife out of my boot. Perhaps now wasn't the time for him to haul the body away. It was time to begin marking him as mine.

I went to him, kneeling as he directed me to. He was still lounging on the floor carelessly, as though he knew he was utterly safe with me. Oh, it wasn't the same as trust, not by a long shot, but it was good enough. Of course, knowing he was safe wasn't nearly the same as knowing I wouldn't try anything.

Jinn took up his knife and then sat up. With a few swift strokes, he sliced his personal sigil into the skin of my right bicep. I hissed in appreciation and flattery more than pain and stared down at the cuts. He swiped his finger along one of them as it was just beginning to bleed, then looked at me and then licked the blood from his finger.

He ran his finger over another line of the runelike signature and held it to my lips. I licked it greedily, the taste of my own blood exploding on my tongue in a metallic rush. I took a risk and pulled his fingertip into my mouth, sucking on it, keeping my teeth well away.

"So glad I don't have to teach you that," he laughed, and I looked at him. The Order encourages brutality, of course, but the hierarchy swiftly grew tired of the expense of reconstructive penile surgery-- hence the strict regulation that apprentices are not to use their mouths during sex for any reason.

Jinn caught my thought and smiled coldly, his fingertip still in my mouth. "That's what you think. If you use your teeth on me, I will be perfectly capable of dragging you off of me and restraining you before I go and have things taken care of. Then I'll come back and make you wish you'd never seen me with a knife in my hand. I see no reason to deny myself this." He dragged his finger from my mouth and ran it over my lips speculatively.

"I intend to push you, boy," he added, almost absently. He considered a moment, then abruptly changed the subject. "Apprentices still aren't allowed to satisfy themselves, are they?"

I was unable to help my cold mirth at his incessant asking of questions to which he already had the answers. "You know I did."

Immediately I undid my belt and pants and knelt up just enough to shove them down to my thighs. He was trying to embarrass me, but I was still too high on the fact of being here, on the sigil on my arm and the training bond in my consciousness. I'd done it. I'd passed the test that any Sith would have coveted the chance to take, but few could have survived.

I probed at the bond mentally, gasping at the flare of pain and taking myself in my hand, squeezing hard and stroking. I began to mentally replay one of my favorite fantasies, of Jinn taking me against a wall. It was much fuller, more solid and detailed now that I had more to go on than Crionis' old holos.

Jinn chuckled, once again plucking the thought right out of my head. "A wall, hm? Now that I know you want it--" his eyes went hard and he lost the brief smile-- "you'll have to beg for it."

I flushed. If I had to beg, then I could live just fine without that fantasy coming to fruition. I continued to play it out in my head, though, moving my hand faster. I closed my eyes, sinking into it, into the only pleasure I'd ever had in my life-- until Jinn.

He lunged forward, grabbed my chin hard and forced my eyes to meet his, grinding the words out in a low, dangerous tone. "Let's be very clear about something, my apprentice, If I want you to beg, you'll beg. Everything you are, your thoughts, your desires, your goals, your visions, all of them belong to me."

Oh, he was so much more a Lord than Crionis had ever been. I began to realize with a vague, unfamiliar sense of relish what I'd got myself into. "Yes, Master," I bit out, torn between anger at the indignity and eagerness to continue earning the right to be trained by this Sith Lord. And I already knew what I was going to do.

I remained unmoving for a moment, then spoke very quietly. "Take me against the wall...?"

He was obviously startled as I struggled with the act of debasing myself further than I ever had before. He wanted it though, wanted my complete and utter degradation. I could see it in his eyes and feel it through the grossly one-sided training bond. Ashamed, I kept talking.

"Please... I've always wanted it, master. I--" I shuddered as I realized what I was doing but I kept going. I could almost feel him getting off on my humiliation. I begged quietly for a moment, nonsense pleas that I knew damn well he had no obligation to fill.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "You learn." His gaze pierced mine again. "Strip."

I rose and peeled out of my pants. When I had discarded them, he jerked his head in the direction of the wall. "Go."

Surprised and rock-hard, I moved quickly to press myself against the wall. It was rough on my chest and palms and it stung the cuts and lash marks. Perfect. My body was already a cacophony of aches and flaring burns-- this would add to it long after he'd finished with me.

I bit back my irritation that I was likely never to have a private thought again. In spite of that indignity, I faltered. "I-- what are you doing?" Even in my puzzlement I could feel how hot he was.

A tight cording of Force energy yanked my arms over my head, tugging me up onto my toes and flat against the wall, wrenching at the sore shoulder.

"What do you think I'm doing, boy? I'm going to fuck you." His mouth smiled without his eyes again. "But you're not used to having to look someone in the eye while they do that, are you?"

"...No." I was growing angry at his taunts but I buried it; I was already humiliated, but I buried that, too. I took the initiative, hating the fact that he overpowered and overwhelmed me so easily. I swung up against the Force restraint and wrapped my legs around his waist.

He gripped my hips, smiling grimly, and thrust into me, another stab of pain to add to all the others.

I looked at him warily, knowing something awful was to follow when he used my first name. "Yes, Master?" I gritted out, keeping my voice steady against the burn inside me.

I had a feeling Jinn had already been indulgent with me and wouldn't remain so for much longer, so I kept my eyes trained on his. I began to feel increasingly afraid of what I'd unleashed. Still, I focused on what pleasure I could find buried in the stinging, burning hurt all over my body. He thrust long, slow and hard, making sure every welt on my back abraded against the stone. His eyes were cold and unchanging; I would have seen the same expression on his face if he were killing someone as I saw now while he used me. It made me angry to feel so humiliated.

"That's right," he grunted, the first sign I'd received since he strung me to the wall that he was getting anything good out of me. "Remember, you begged me for this."

I gritted out a moan as something snapped into place in my brain. He skimmed his pleasure right off the top of my abasement, my pain, and especially my fear. The fact was that I had begged, and he had given me what I wanted, on his terms of course. Still, it was more than I ever would have expected and it made me high in and of its own right. I'd been given what I wanted by the Left Hand. It gave me a heady sense of power I'd never known before.

Immediately he stopped, gripping my ass with one hand and reaching up to slap me hard with the other, inflaming an existing, swollen bruise and startling me into a gasp.

"Yes, Master," I mumbled by rote. My fear spiked and my anger abated. I realized at this rate he would break me well inside the two days it had taken my old master; the dynamic was different. Crionis had only fueled my anger and even at thirteen I could see that defeating him would be easy when the time came. Jinn had inspired more fear in me in a day and a half than I'd ever felt in my life.

Briefly I focused, drawing on my newfound hatred of him and internalizing the pain so I could use it as well. I circled my hips and levitated myself, then dropped, gasping at the persistent pain inside me even as I willingly did what he told me to do.

Triumph rushed through me as he sighed, "Oh, yes. That's good." He clamped down on my engraved bicep and stared at me.

I moaned. It would never heal. I'd be bleeding for him every day of my apprenticeship. The attention it would require was beyond flattering.

He laughed at me. "And what will you do for pain when you're no longer an apprentice?"

"Cut it... myself," I breathed, still concentrating on lifting and lowering my body over his cock. "Every night. In your honor." I wasn't sure if it was a political thing to say or a sincere one, but I knew that it was the truth. It didn't take Vision to know that I was already indebted, even devoted to him in the only way a Sith knew how to be: with blood.

For the first time, he stared at me in open shock. He knew it was a gift I was offering him. Nodding tightly, he gave me a gift in return. He grabbed my hips again, relieving me of the duty of moving myself.

I sank myself into him, raking a tendril of my consciousness over the raw bond and grunting at the pain, reveling in it, glad that I'd pleased him but afraid of it, too. I'd never tried to do any more than marginally content anyone with my progress. This was different, though. So different.

I came, shuddering and staring, fundamentally disturbed that he was looking steadily into my eyes as I did so. It was probably the fact that I was so bothered that sent him over, yelling again. Panting, I slumped against the wall, exhausted to the core and no longer able to hide it.

He disengaged himself and stepped back, releasing the Force restraint. I dropped to the floor and sank to my knees, glancing over my shoulder at the wall. It was stained with my blood; there were huge patches of it where my shoulder blades and back had scraped against the stone.

Jinn immediately grabbed me by the hair and hauled me up. "We obviously need to work on your recovery time. Next time I do something like that, you had better land on your feet. Now get dressed and get rid of that trash." He pointed at the mauled body on the floor.

Angry and stung, I cleaned the come off my stomach, dressed and hauled the body away, not even bothering to augment my strength with the Dark Force. Crionis deserved to be shoved bodily into a speeder car and dumped in an ugly place. I took him far away from the outpost so that when a slurg (or a thousand tiny vermin, for all I cared) ate him, his corpse would not entice them toward us.

When I returned, I would have thought that my nasty, bedraggled state must have finally reached a point at which it bothered my new master. But no; he was leaning casually on the blood-stained wall, his arms folded in front of him, watching me as I entered.

His mouth smiled again as I stopped in front of him. "Welcome to my world, boy. I'm going to run you ragged and find every one of your limits." He paused, looking me over. "Then, when you've recovered-- and you'll have plenty of time to do that at the Temple-- I'll present you to the Emperor."

Another wave of fear shook me. "Is it a test? What happens when I'm presented to the Emperor?"

Jinn laughed then, obviously thrilled at my reaction. He idly traced his finger through the blood on the wall and said, "Not what you're thinking. He will only read your mind and assure himself of your loyalty. It's not a test; it's a requirement. Where do you think my... commissions come from?" He rubbed at the blood on his fingertips thoughtfully. "Having the Emperor in your mind is... well. It's rather like being skillfully cut." His eyes traveled to the line he'd sliced at the front of my throat, and almost absently he ran his finger over it. "You won't notice the pain until the blood comes. In the case of a mind probe, it comes out of your ears." His eyes met mine again. "You'll survive."

"Oh. Well." I shrugged, uncaring that my relief was palpable. Whatever else I would have to face to pay for the privilege of having Qui-Gon Jinn as my master, I would not, at least, be sexually servicing Emperor Yoda.