Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 25)
"We're still an hour away from Coruscant," Qui-Gon said. Tahl looked up from where she knelt, adjusting the heated blanket that now covered the two smallest passengers. Some of the freed Force-sensitives had hypothermia from their exposure to the elements on Malum IV. "Should we divert to a closer system?"
This was not a question that Qui-Gon wanted to ask, but in his heart of hearts he knew that the welfare of innocents must take precedence over his desire to resume searching for Obi-Wan.
"No." Tahl's answer was curt and emotionless. "No one has time-critical injuries, not even frostbite. And as much as I loathe the prospect of telling them, the Council should know what we discovered."
Qui-Gon nodded, masking the relief he felt. Coruscant. Obi-Wan had to be there, somewhere.
Tahl checked the flow of oxygen to the mask Rensi wore, her face pinched and sallow with worry.
"He should have taken a breather, or shared one with someone," she said. The hint of anger in her voice surprised Qui-Gon, but he understood, now, how tangled an emotion possessive love could be. How easily rage might follow the fear of losing a loved one. The emotion ebbed away from Tahl almost instantly, but Qui-Gon saw it, felt it resonate with his feelings for Obi-Wan. "Damned fool of a man. Had to prove he was as good as any Jedi."
"I am," Rensi said, his voice hoarse. Neither Tahl nor Qui-Gon had realized he was awake. Rensi winked at Tahl and grinned lopsidedly. "I'll be fine, woman. You just settle your mind on that account."
Tahl laughed and took his hand, bringing it to her lips.
Qui-Gon faded back through the doorway, not wishing to intrude. He sat in the copilot's seat and watched the streaking stars go by, wondering if he would find Obi-Wan before it was too late to mend things between them.
“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan. Wherever you are.”
#
Xanatos spoke as little as possible to Healer Tand on the way to the Senate complex. He had an unreasonable dislike for Mind Healers, and this was compounded by the knowledge that his case was of peculiar interest to all the Temple Healers. Nothing put him more on guard than that sort of clinical interest. Tand made it worse by trying to engage him in small talk.
"I assume you know what to expect? From this hearing, I mean."
Xanatos met his gaze and nodded.
"I will be in the hearing chamber monitoring you through the Force. If I sense any... anything untoward, I will intervene."
Ah. That was lovely, knowing he had a Mind Healer ready to swoop in and rescue him if he started to fall apart. He was a Jedi, for Force's sake.
"They will want a full record of your mission, you know," Tand said, not unkindly. "Speaking of such things publicly-"
"-Is easier to do in a Senate hearing than a crowded transport," Xanatos said.
Tand sighed. "Sorry."
"Never mind," Xanatos said. "I know it isn't likely to be easy, but consider for a moment that perhaps I only want to talk about it once.”
"I understand." Tand seemed even more compassionate and less detached than he had earlier. For some reason Xanatos found that infuriating. He closed his eyes and focused on his bond with Bruck, that bright spot in his spirit, open wide and flowing with the Force, with Light. I can do this, he thought. I know I can.
He felt a wave of love wash through the bond, so strong it almost took his breath away. His face felt hot. He noticed Tand had backed off, giving him as much space as the transport allowed.
When they landed at the Senate Complex stop, nearly every being on board exited with them. A protocol droid approached them, saying it had been sent by the Chancellor to escort them to the hearing. Xanatos nodded and followed it toward a nearby lift.
#
Bail had everything planned, and the timing should be perfect. The Jedi Knight was scheduled to testify before a closed committee meeting -- one Bail had been specifically excluded from attending, due to his close ties with the Jedi Council. This was, of course, something Palpatine had done to test him. A pull of the chain to see if he would squeak. Bail was going to squeak all right, and Palpatine wouldn't know a thing about it until the hearing was over.
The media outlets were expecting Bail to speak to them in less than an hour, and he hoped the result would be explosive. He had some interesting allegations to make, and with evidence to support his claims. Still, his insides roiled at the thought of standing before the Galaxy and doing what he planned. The idea was sound enough, but the outcome largely depended on the execution.
For the hundredth time, he checked his appearance in the reflection of his office window. The air outside was bright with sun and buzzing with activity typical of Coruscant at this time of day. He wondered whether he'd still be on Coruscant by nightfall, to see the speeders turn to flashing lights in the darkness.
The comm sounded, interrupting his reverie. His private, secure line. He pulled up the video on his commdesk. The video was grainy and indistinct, and the sound wavered with interference.
"Bail?" The voice was familiar, but the tone of it somewhat obscured by static. The vid image wiggled into near clarity for a moment, and he recognized Kenobi, looking somewhat less glamorous than usual. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan, but the signal is terrible. Where are you?" The image scrambled again, but from what Bail saw, Kenobi seemed to have crouched beneath his comm's view. He could see the top of his head, bowed as if examining something.
"I think that's got it." He appeared again, this time in a much more stable but still grainy image. "I'm at the rooms. Can you come get me?"
"What? Now?" The courtesan hadn't spoken to him or returned his comms in days, and now he wanted Bail to be his chauffeur? Something odd had been going on with Obi-Wan, he was sure of that much. "What's happened? Did you get my comms?"
Obi-Wan paused, lips pressed together. He looked haggard and more than a little impatient. "I've been locked out of the comm -- and the door locks -- for days. I've got the door to the speederbay open, but I cannot seem to access the one that opens to the building. It has some sort of electrified security panel." He paused to hold up reddened fingers. "I need to get out of here before they come back."
Bail blinked, wondering who "they" were. He was expected at the press conference in less than twenty minutes, and doubted he'd have time to make the trip himself. "I have somewhere I have to be at the moment. I should be free in a couple of hours."
He saw a fearful look flash across Obi-Wan's face before he could mask it. "What is the matter, Obi-Wan? Why can't you simply call a taxi?"
Kenobi's expression changed to one of contained anger. "Because I haven't any credits. Palpatine has had me locked up here like a prisoner with his... He hasn't paid me, and I do not believe he intends to. Even if he paid twice what he promised, it wouldn't be enough to stay here like this. There is no one else I could reach who might help me. Please, Bail. I'll never ask anything else of you."
The desperation in Kenobi's voice surprised Bail, and touched him. Bail had never seen Obi-Wan seem so openly distressed about anything. Whatever Palpatine had done with the courtesan, it couldn’t have been pleasant.
"I'll send my driver for you," he said. "And you needn't worry about troubling me. I'll have him take you to my private rooms. You can rest there in safety until my business is concluded, and then I'll see what I can do about making other arrangements for you."
"Thank you." Obi-Wan relaxed visibly, as if he'd feared that Bail might refuse him.
"It's the least I can do. We'll talk more when I see you tonight. I have some news to share with you."
"Looking forward to it." Obi-Wan smiled at him over the comm, but Bail suspected it masked other emotions. He was still afraid.
Bail signed off, more resolved than ever to do what he had planned. "I'll take care of our friend the Chancellor as well," he said, to no one in particular.
#
Palpatine smiled to himself as he saw the handsome Knight T' Crion enter the hearing room. He had intended to speak with him before the hearing began, but he had not expected him to be accompanied by a Healer, especially one so sensitive to shades of Light and Dark. Palpatine was nothing if not subtle, but it would be best not to ply the young Knight with Dark energy whilst under observation of that sort. He would have to be careful.
As soon as everyone was seated, Palpatine addressed them. "Greetings, Knight T'Crion. We are pleased that you could make it to this hearing so soon after your recent accident. I'm sure the urgency of this matter is not lost on anyone present."
"I am grateful for the opportunity to explain the facts of what we have discovered. With me is Healer Tand, also of the Jedi Order. He is prepared to offer expert testimony regarding the particulars of the threat we have uncovered."
Both the Knight and the Healer bowed to the small assembly of Senators, seated on their raised platform like a row of judges. Palpatine could feel tendrils of anxiety rising off the Knight as he faced them. He pressed his lips together to hide the triumph he felt; the Knight’s distress would only get worse as he was asked to recount his mission.
Palpatine himself wouldn't have to exert much pressure at all to make him crack, if he played his cards properly.
Oh, he was going to enjoy this.
#
Orima Durante’s options for survival were limited. Experience had taught him just how far the Sith Lord’s indulgence was likely to extend, and he had reached the limit.If he failed Sidious in this, no corner of the Galaxy could hide him. Running was not an option; he had to see the experiment through, or find himself at the Sith’s mercy. He had seen Sidious punish an underling, once, and had rather enjoyed the spectacle. But the memory held menace now, for it reminded Orima that he must avoid the Sith’s tender mercies at all costs.
He had thirty-five fruitful Kleranom females on his hands, and no Force-sensitive subjects to play host to their eggs. He either had to destroy the Kleranoms or find suitable replacements.
Most of his men were sleeping, exhausted from their battle with the Jedi – and they had been Jedi. If their fighting skills hadn’t been enough to prove it, one of Orima’s guards claimed to recognize one of them -- the giant of a man who had cut off Orima’s hand on Iptura -– Master Qui-Gon Jinn.
Of course, he hadn’t told Palpatine. Why should he? The Jedi Master had much to answer for as far as Orima was concerned, and he would find a way to make him pay. First, he had to settle things with the Sith.
He’d been to the weapons locker and checked the duty roster, which turned out to be utterly worthless. Sidious was right about Durante’s men –- they were soft, useless sacks of guts. He had overindulged them in his boredom -– had even let them have their way with the outpost’s technical staff when the Sith Lord had forbidden them to make sport with the captives.
They hadn’t lasted long, but they hadn’t been necessary anymore, or so Orima had thought. But without the proper maintenance, the base had been vulnerable to attack. In hindsight, he should not have let his personal forces kill the maintenance and laboratory staff. Live and learn.
Using the base’s comm system, he roused his security force –- all that remained of his personal guard and crew -– and ordered them to arm themselves and report to the Kleranom containment area. He met them outside the main doors that separated their living quarters from the rest of the base. “Is this everyone?”
Corban, head of his security force and trusted friend of many years, stepped forward. “Everyone except Shalki -– he still can’t walk.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Orima said. “Ichthilins can be so fragile.”
Corban nodded his agreement and stood, waiting for Orima to continue.
“This should be the best sport you’ve had since we arrived on this gods-forsaken rock.” Orima smiled at his men. “Without the prisoners, the experiment here has to be abandoned. We can’t leave any evidence behind, so we need to deal with the Kleranoms. Are you up for a bit of target practice?” The men cheered. Orima grinned. “I thought so. Have at it, men!”
He opened the doors and everyone filed through, making for the chamber with the Kleranom cages. Once the last of them had turned the corner, Orima closed the blast doors, installed as an extra precaution had one of the Kleranoms escaped. This batch had turned out to be significantly more aggressive than their predecessors, after all.
Whistling, he made his way to the control room and released the locks on all the Kleranom cages. He turned off the comm. Before any of the men realized that their weapons had been loaded with empty cartridges. He chuckled to himself, realizing that, for once, he didn’t want to hear his victims scream.
Corban in particular. He had served Orima long and well, and he would miss the man. Orima might have spared him, but Corban was fond of his men and more than a match for Durante physically. He couldn’t risk having him go all honorable at the last moment.
“My skin or yours,” he said, by way of explanation, to the empty air.
#
Xanatos found his voice, and recounted his rehearsed testimony as clearly and concisely as if it were a routine mission log. His tone was calm and steady, his stance relaxed. The picture of Jedi competence -- on the outside, at least.
On the inside, he felt as though his entire being, spirit and flesh, had curled into a ball. At the very center of it was the warm, flickering light of Bruck. His love, his acceptance, his connection to the Light.
It was simple, really. He went on a mission to investigate a possible Kleranom smuggling ring. He was taken prisoner and injected with an experimental Force-inhibiting drug derived from the venom of adult female Kleranoms. During his captivity he identified the ring leader as Orima Durante, a man with a reputation as a smuggler for hire. He was subsequently rescued, and the extent of his Force-related injuries was not immediately known.
Xanatos stepped down to allow Healer Tand to explain in the briefest possible manner how the poison worked, and why this was such a significant threat to the Jedi Order and, by extension, to peace in the Galaxy.
The Senator from Mechis III was the first to speak. "So, what you're saying is that this substance will turn a Jedi to the Dark Side?" He made no effort to hide his skepticism. "Isn't this Force all a load of nonsense? I mean, we all acknowledge that Jedi training hones certain skills present already in those born talented, but the Dark Side and the Light Side? Aren't those simply states of mind, or intention? How can that be chemically influenced?"
Xanatos sighed, trying to release his frustration. The Order didn't talk publicly or in great detail about midichlorians, or how they work. This would be a tricky question to answer, without sounding unfashionably religious or revealing too much. At least that one was in Tand's hands, not his.
"Jedi are sensitive to the Force, both to the Light and the Dark, but we are trained to abide in the Light and use only that positive expression of the Force in our work. This poison cripples our connection to the positive energy, but not to the energy created by negative emotions."
So Tand had chosen "unfashionably religious".
"But Knight T'Crion was exposed to this substance, and he doesn't seem to be ravening for the blood of younglings. At least not to me."
Xanatos swallowed hard and stood, only subliminally aware of the Light pouring into him from his bond with Bruck.
“But I have been negatively affected by it, Senator. When I first woke from the bacta, my body hurt all over as if stung with nettles, even though my wounds were healed. I used significant amounts of topical analgesic simply to function normally." He stepped forward, as if pacing while he spoke would make it easier to still the panic inside, the fight or flight response he could barely keep in check, even with Bruck's help. "Then I got angry, and the pain went away. Completely. I was filled with rage, and the power of the Dark Side. I might have killed someone. I came very close to harming an innocent."
"But you didn't," another Senator said. "If this is such a dangerous condition, how is it you were able to stop yourself from doing harm?"
"I saw myself, what I was doing, clearly -- just for an instant. I saw what was becoming of me." Xanatos swallowed, mentally distancing himself from the memory as much as possible in order to maintain his composure. “That helped me resist the Darkness.”
"And that," the Chancellor himself put in, "was when you attempted to kill yourself?"
"Yes." Xanatos’ answer seemed to resonate in the shocked silence that followed. A moment passed before anyone spoke.
"So this chemical makes Jedi suicidal?" A third senator, a Bothan, said.
Xanatos met her eyes. "Suicidal, if you're lucky."
"What do you mean by that?" The first Senator again, his expression one of scorn.
"What I mean by that, Senator, is that the Jedi Order is the most powerfully gifted collection of individuals in the Galaxy. Through training and commitment we are capable of impressive feats of speed, agility, even mind control. Our deepest commitment is to peace in the Galaxy. But take that away from us, and what are we but beings? Flesh and blood, subject to the same frailties as any other beings, yet capable of exerting great influence toward selfish, individual goals. You do not want that. The Galaxy could not withstand it."
The Senator pulled a face, but did not speak.
The Chancellor regarded Xanatos with a look of genuine compassion. “Yet you appear none the worse for your exposure to this toxin. Is it really so dangerous?”
Xanatos had hoped not to have to reveal certain things, but there was nothing to be done for it. He felt Bruck’s love pouring into him through their bond, and knew what it would take to impress upon these beings the gravity of the situation.
“The Darkness was so strong, I knew I could not resist it for long. That was why I tried to destroy myself. Without other treatment, I would have fallen.”
“If this condition is so easily treatable, then it cannot be as grave a threat as you have presented.” The Junior Senator from Nubia sounded more curious than argumentative. The Council’s reluctance to make the exact workings of the Jedi connection to the Force a matter of public record only made it clearer that they were hiding something. Tand stepped forward.
“The treatment is not as facile as it might seem,” he said. “Knight T’Crion’s situation is unique in that he has an active Force bond with another Jedi. Through this bond he is able to maintain a connection to the Light while Temple Healers search for a cure. Most Jedi do not have such bonds, and so would be without recourse if they became infected.”
The Chancellor drummed his fingers thoughtfully. “Fascinating. Thank you for the clarification, Healer.” He turned his attention to the others assembled. “It seems clear to me that this threat poses an immediate danger to the Jedi.”
“But how does it constitute a threat to the Galaxy?” The Senator from Mechis III seemed truly irritated by the Chancellor’s pronouncement. “This young man claims that ‘fallen’ Jedi would be formidable foes, yet according to the mission files provided by the Jedi Council, he was easily captured by some small-time smuggler and held against his will until the man simply let him go. Forgive me, but if that is an example of Jedi prowess, I am not impressed.”
Xanatos fought the images those words evoked, needing to keep his breathing slow and calm. Still, he felt it like a kick to the chest, the reminder of his helplessness during his captivity. Orima Durante’s hands on him.
“Jedi are formidable, not infallible.” Xanatos paused to clear his throat; a moment passed before he trusted his voice to continue unbroken. “It was a covert mission, but Durante had advanced knowledge of my arrival and set a trap. Was that information not available in the mission files, as well?”
Xanatos paced along the edge of the dais, collecting his thoughts. For once, the assembled group kept silent, waiting for him to continue.
“Once he had me, he kept me heavily drugged and Force-inhibited. Whatever else Orima Durante may be, he is clever enough not to underestimate a Jedi.” At the last phrase he met the gaze of the dubious Senator and held it until the other man looked away.
“I believe we have heard enough,” the Bothan Senator said.
“Yes,” Palpatine agreed. “Thank you, Knight T’Crion, Healer Tand.”
With that the Senators adjourned to another room. Xanatos turned to Tand, sighing with relief. “Seven hells, I’m glad that’s over.”
“You did well.” Tand offered him a tight-lipped smile. Xanatos could tell Tand had sensed his emotional disturbance during the last exchange.
"Can't wait to get me back in a Force-shielded room, can you?" Xanatos heard the edge in his own voice, the hostile undertone. It didn't mean anything; he could still feel Bruck, flooding their bond with Light.
Tand glanced down and muttered, "This was more of a strain on you than I had hoped, is all."
"Just because I'm irritable with you doesn't mean I'm going Dark," Xanatos quipped. "If everyone who mistrusted Mind Healers had gone Dark, the Order would be decimated."
Tand chuckled. "True enough. We'd best be going, though -- I know Bruck will be anxious to see you."
Xanatos grinned at the thought of returning to his lover's side. His burden seemed more manageable when Bruck was close, even in the Healers' Dome. Xanatos reached along their connection -- his awareness of it still felt new. He could sense Bruck -- his lover was tired and somewhat distracted at the moment, but still filled with love and Light. "Let's not keep him waiting."
As they moved through the Senate complex toward the transports, the Chancellor himself approached them.
"Thank you both so much for presenting this evidence today. The committee would never have approved the funds for a full-scale investigation without your passionate testimony." He placed a warm, fatherly hand on Xanatos' arm, just where the prosthetic began. For perhaps the first time since his last mission, Xanatos didn't flinch away from the casual touch of a stranger.
"Thank you, Chancellor," he said.
"The investigation is the Council's first priority," Tand put in, polite but cool.
"The safety of the Order is of great importance to the Galaxy as well, as I'm sure my colleagues understand now," Palpatine answered. "Excuse me, Healer, but might I have a word with Knight T'Crion?"
Tand hesitated, as if he was actually considering denying the leader of the Galaxy access to his patient. Something about the look he gave Xanatos before he nodded and withdrew annoyed him. Did Tand really think him too weak to exchange banalities with a politician without turning to the Dark Side?
“Pardon me, Knight T’Crion, but I have some information I feel I must share with you.” The Chancellor moved closer, speaking softly. “Knowing what you’ve been through in service to the Galaxy, I believe you have the right to know.”
“Yes, Chancellor?”
“My sources have discovered the whereabouts of Orima Durante.” The Chancellor took Xanatos' gloved prosthesis between his two hands, pressing something into his palm. “This data chip contains the pertinent parts of the report.”
Xanatos felt dizzy, light-headed, as if he had taken a hit of illegal intoxicants. The world around him seemed fuzzy, surreal, but a pleasant tingling filled his belly, spreading warmth. “I’m sure the Council will be grateful for this information. Thank you.”
“I’m giving it to you, Xanatos,” the Chancellor whispered. “After all you’ve been through, don’t you deserve to be the one to bring this man to justice?”
“I have to go back to the Dome.”
“You will.” The Chancellor smiled. “Everything has been arranged. You could be back at the Temple in time for late meal, if you act swiftly.”
Xanatos’ fist clenched so tightly around the data chip, he could have sworn he felt the synthetic joints ache. This was his chance to prove his strength to Tand and the others who doubted him. Bruck deserved a full Jedi for a lover, not some burdensome invalid. He looked into the eyes of his unexpected benefactor. “How?”
The Chancellor’s benevolent smile widened.