Master Apprentice
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XXIII
Jax and Mace hurried into Qui-Gon's quarters, fully expecting to find him roaring orders like a wounded bear. Instead, he was quietly sipping a drink, his long legs slung over the arm of the chair. Neither missed the ever-widening terror in the servant's eyes as he silently offered them both glasses.
"I think we need another bottle, Zath. Wouldn't ya say so?" Jinn's voice was deathly soft.
"Raight away, Maister." The man's hands shook as he uncorked it. Qui-Gon had consumed the better part of that doctored bottle in record time, evincing not the slightest effect of either the Sopfor or the alcohol.
Mace sat down across from his lounging chief. "You said the boy's gone missing? How is that possible?"
"Not sure o'that myself. Any ideas, Zath?"
"N-naow. Couldn't say, Maister."
Jax raised an eyebrow. "Who d'ye contact about missing padawans around here?"
All eyes were focused on the sweating servant. "H-Haow---I dunno." he mumbled, half-choking on his own fear.
Qui-Gon swung his legs around suddenly and walked into Zath's small chamber. Still seeking escape, Zath tried to head for the main door and found his way blocked by Jax. Qui-Gon's eyes half-closed, their expression distant for a long, silent moment. Then he dug into the small chest of drawers, rising with the long, heavy plait of hair, still twined with blue ribbons and starred with dying flowers, gripped in a white-knuckled fist.
"And how would this be gettin' here?" It was the merest ghost of a whisper.
"I--I--" Zath shrank back against the wall, eyes darting two and fro, searching for any path to freedom.
"Then look into my eyes an' tell me." Qui-Gon's voice was a deadly hiss. His eyes went blank, nearly white and transparent and the cringing servant was locked into his gaze like a rodent mesmerised by a snake. Relentlessly, Qui-Gon tore into his mind, ripping the knowledge out of him along with sanity and sensation.
Jax watched impassively. Mace might be horror-struck at his cousin's brute force but he knew Qui-Gon's abilities and temperament better. It was never a good idea to try to cheat or lie with the big man and it was deadly to attempt to betray him. Zath's entire body shuddered spasmodically, then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.
"Keep that thing alive until I need him." Qui-Gon growled. He yanked his boots back on and indicated the comlink.
"Contact Senator Darial. He's th' Temple Guardian. Tell him I'm on my way right now and he'd better have some answers f'me."
Darial slammed the comlink down hard, damning his fate to every Sith hell and back. He should have known that Force-cursed servant was too brainless to be any good. Ghods, but he was in serious trouble now. From the communication he had received, Lord Jinn was furious and rightly so. Not only had his padawan been abducted from the Temple itself, but this was 'the' padawan, the one whose price was so staggering as to become legendary. Should the boy be harmed or damaged, the Temple itself would be hard-pressed to return the price. Should Lord Jinn claim damages...Darial went chalk-white. He knew enough about Qui-Gon Jinn to know he could and would bankrupt the entire Temple. He also knew that his own superior would have his head on a platter for allowing something so monstrous to happen. Why, oh why had he taken Zath's word about a bedslave? He punched in Hyrass' code and hoped beyond hope that nothing had happened to the boy yet.
Obi-Wan rolled in a hazy blanket of anguish. Hours before, his limbs had gone numb. He existed in a weird half-life, pain and pleasure so cruelly twined that he could no longer distinguish one from the other. All his sensations centred around his swollen, aching genitals, kept in a frenzied state of miserable arousal by the probe. His frantic terror was gone, frozen into horrified paralysis. He was already irrevocably damaged, despoiled of his braid, stripped and left in this hellish place of suffering and humiliation. Where was his Master? Why had Qui-Gon left him to such a fate? His mind blanked on him again as he came within a gasp of orgasm and was pulled back down by the tightening metal sheath around his cock. He thought he had run out of tears, but they streamed down his face to pool on the chill, hard surface of the table, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
He thought he must faint, but he never did.
Relief poured through him like a flood as the horrid thing was shut down and pulled out of his twitching body. Something like a sigh welled in his chest and he tumbled into semi-consciousness, only to be dragged back to his agonised senses by rough hands against his hypersensitised skin.
"Miss me, pretty?"
A sob caught in his throat. Bad as the probe had been, it was nothing compared to the brutal grasp of Hyrass' hands. The Republican Guard was alight with need: the Guards were genetically manufactured creatures, made for combat, in an eternal state of readiness. Unfortunately, the cloning codes that made them such tireless soldiers also made them sexually insatiable. Temple rejects and young convicts comprised the bulk of the harems required to slake their unappeasable needs. Few survived the vicious and continual use very long.
Obi-Wan hid in that tiny corner of his mind, crouching there in terror and pain as the big man shoved his bound legs even further apart, pushing into his sore body dry. He felt his insides tearing, the hands on his shoulders bruising. What should have been his screams were pitiful little gasps and moans, torn from a throat already aching with tears. His head was yanked up by his sweat-soaked hair, the fetid breath close to his ear. Each thrust was accompanied by a grunt, harder and more painful until he was riding a wave of pure agony. A harsh shout and Hyrass finally exploded and collapsed crushingly atop Obi-Wan's trembling body.
"Hmmmm. Not bad." Hyrass panted. "But I want to try you out in a few other ways." He pulled the handful of hair hard. "Nice handle, this mop is. You'll have to lose it, of course. Too bad, but such a pain to hose you down with it." His grip tightened until he had yanked out a good clump of it.
He untied the dazed boy, ignoring the blood spattering the pale skin and shoved his legs up, entering him again. This time he slid inside easily, the torn passage lubricated with blood and semen. Obi-Wan's eyes were rolling back and the Guard slapped him awake, never once losing his stride. He continued to pump at the tender body until no amount of prodding would hold his victim to consciousness. It did not matter. He kept up his brutal assault even as Obi-Wan lolled in his grip, wakened, then fainted again.
Obi-Wan had no way to gauge how long it had been. He knew only that the pain was so intense he would drift beyond it, to a place where he was hardly aware of his body. It was a cruel shock when Hyrass grabbed hold of his cock and began to pump it, resensitising him and bringing him to unwilling completion. There was no longer any need for restraints. He was helpless to fight or flee as Hyrass alternately rained blows on him or pushed into him over and over until he felt as though he had been wrenched inside-out. It was a sorry kind of relief when he was shoved to his knees and forced to take the big cock, slick with his own blood, into his mouth. He gagged, and was rewarded with another series of brutal blows. The hard organ was pushed between his split lips and this time he obeyed, focused entirely on keeping his throat open and his stomach still.
When Hyrass pulled away, finally sated down the Padawan's throat, he collapsed forward at the man's feet. He barely registered it when he was pulled to his feet and handed over to a pair of droids who efficiently thrust bacta tubes up his bleeding anus and down his throat before sealing him in a coffin-like stasis chamber, one of hundreds lining a wall, each containing a brutalised victim being healed for another day's torture.
Qui-Gon eyed Junior Senator Darial as a Gafkusan tiger-cat might watch prospective prey. He prowled about the elegant office, his long strides sinking into the carpet with deliberate, heel-grinding precision.
"I suggest ya get movin' and find my Padawan. Meantime, I'm goin' to th' Council."
He leaned over the desk, staring deep into the frightened man's dark eyes. There was real terror there, and memory and guilt. A grim smile twisted Qui-Gon's lips.
"You'd best tell yer bloody owner I want him back. And it he's harmed or hurt in any way, I hold you responsible. Ya hear me?"
He swept out of the office in a flurry of dark blue velvet and stomping bootheels. Jax kept up with him easily.
"He knows something."
Qui-Gon paused for a moment, staring out at Coruscant's sunny day, hovercars blinking in the light. He seemed older, the lines around eyes and mouth cutting hard shadows across his face.
"Aye, I know it. Ah, ghods, Jax. I've an image of one of the Guards from Zath's mind. Same face here. What in hell could they want wi' the boy?"
Jax shook his head, grimacing into a blond beard. "Dunno, Qui. I saw the same thing. Let me and Tryyl poke about. We're less conspicuous."
"I've no time f'that!" Qui-Gon's voice was measured and calm, but there was a world of hurt underneath its soft tones. Jax laid a hand on his arm tentatively.
"It'll be all right, cousin. We'll find him."
"Aye, we'll find him." The blue eyes were exhausted with fear, pain and sleeplessness. "I just hope..."
"Don't think it. "
Jax followed his chief down the corridor towards the Temple, worried and afraid. The look in Qui-Gon's face was almost more than he could bear to see. In it was loss, regret, and the very real fear that he might not be able to pluck victory from thin air this time. He knew his cousin blamed himself for not getting back to their quarters earlier and for his jealous treatment of the boy. He also knew what Qui-Gon could not, would not admit: that his fear was born of love. Jax took a moment to clear his mind and hoped they could find Obi-Wan quickly, before the fleet arrived and Qui-Gon was embroiled in a full-scale invasion.
Darial's fingers shook as he punched in the code to Hyrass. It was answered abruptly.
"Hyrass!!! Damn it, where's the brat?"
The Guard's voice was a clipped and whisper. "I can't talk here. Which brat?"
"The one last night. From the Temple Guest quarters."
He heard movements and rustling. The politician's voice was low and vicious "Listen, you idiot. He's a padawan. You must have seen that. You didn't harm him, did you."
"Harm him?" Hyrass growled. "Are you crazy? He's a good time, Darial. He'll have been prepped by now."
Darial thought he would faint as all the blood ran from his face. His mind raced to and fro like a jumping holo-vid screen. His decision made, he leaned into the comlink.
"Kill him. Kill him now and get rid of the body. Do you hear me? Don't wait. Just do it."
Hyrass stared down at the comlink for a moment, one eyebrow cocked. His politician friend must be in some serious trouble. His teeth gleamed in a smile.
"Not yet. I want my due, Senator."
"Whatever you want. Just get rid of the boy fast." Darial's words tumbled from his lips in a rushed whisper. "I'll replace him three times over. I'll let you pick any of the Initiates you want. Just get rid of that one!!"
"All right." Hyrass' grin deepened. He could hear the relief in the Senator's voice.
"Hyrass?"
"Yes, Senator."
"Make sure the body disappears. He must not be found."
"Sure, Senator." Hyrass clicked off the palm-sized machine with a flash of white teeth, predatory in the dim corner he'd slid to during the communication. Let Senator Darial Brilk wait a while and sweat, he thought. No sense to not enjoy the brat a bit more. Time and enough to dispose of what might be left.
The Jedi Temple Council was enjoying the lovely view from the Temple Tower, discussing various new courses of study and savouring a pleasant mid-day meal when the huge doors flew back with such violence they shook the entire chamber. It was a shocked and amazed dozen demurely-robed Councilors staring at the tall Remwaran whose eyes were blazing light jets.
"I've na time for sweet talkin' the likes o' you lot. I've but one thing t'tell you. My padawan has been abducted. If he's harmed in any way, hurt in any fashion." The glowing eyes swept the room. "If any more than this has happened to hurt him, I will expect what your own laws provide." He held up the severed braid, flicking it across his gloved palm.
Jinn smiled dangerously. "I hope yer finances are in order. "
Without another word, he strode to the door, then turned. "And dinna think ya can put me off. I'll na tolerate it. " He looked pointedly at the huge, new chandelier above the centre of the room. It began to sway, the delicate prisms glinting and tinkling like chimes, then suddenly dropped with a crash, scattering crystals and floor tiles at the frozen Council members pedicured feet. His eyes were narrowed to slits.
" Dinna try my patience." He spun out of the door, leaving a crowd too terrified to even murmur.
Outside the Council Chamber, Jax fell into step beside him. "Aren't ya showin' your hand?"
Qui-Gon's lips twitched. "It's time they knew what they're dealin' wi'. " He paused in one of the great glass hallways and stared out over the bustling city.
"I must know how t'get to the Guardhouse. He's got t' be there."
"Qui-Gon, leave it!! The fleet's nearly in place. You're needed. Let Tryyl and I look."
The pale light of Coruscant's winter sun glinted in the silver of his hair as he shook his head. There seemed much more of it than there had been a day earlier.
"I canna do that."
"Qui-Gon, ya'll jeopardise everything we've worked for. We can lose any number of fighters, but we canna lose you."
Qui-Gon was not listening. "Get Mace here now. Have him meet me below."
He took Jax by the shoulders, his blue eyes tired and afraid. "I have t'find him myself. 'Tis honour, Jax. I must do it."
Jax grimaced and nodded. "I'll comm Mace and get to Syrene."
Qui-Gon was already half-way down the corridor.
Obi-Wan was borne along, bound to a grav-unit. Distantly, he was glad of it, sure that he could not possibly walk. His eyes were nearly black in a face so white and strained he might have been wearing the old, traditional make-up. Earlier, droids had pulled him from the stasis bank and taken him to a white, staring chamber. He had been secured in a tiled enclosure while a droid methodically sheared his hair off close to the scalp. The rest of his body was coated with a stinging substance that removed all body hair. While the depilatory did its painful work, another tube was pushed up inside him and his bowels were thoroughly emptied twice. Finally, sonic jets were activated and shot painfully against his sore flesh. The newly-healed wounds were aching and the pain still made him twitch, the hypersensitive areas of his abused skin throbbing in time to his racing heart. Once cleaned, another droid pushed him against the grav-unit, securing his wrists and ankles. He was moved down several dim corridors, barely conscious and in too much shock to pay any attention.
He was brought to a small chamber where he was attached by a loop in the back of his collar to a steel table and left there, shivering. He huddled into a ball of trembling misery, knowing now what must follow. He did not have to wait very long.
He recognised Hyrass' voice the moment the door slid open. There were others, too, at least three or four.
"All right, little one. Time to earn your keep."
He wished he could die or disappear, anything to evade the horror of what was happening to him. He could do neither, and he hung, trapped in a reality more terrible and cruel than any nightmare. His mouth was pried open, a plasteel ring clamped in place to keep it gaping as brutal hands pulled him to his knees. One huge organ pushed into his mouth, another spearing him from behind and he was lost, so lost. Bodies moved and changed, blows alternated with numbing use and Obi-Wan turned inward. He could no longer care, could barely feel as the blood began to flow again down his legs, into his aching throat, along with semen, spit, and urine.
He was on the veranda with Garen, watching the blossoms of his favourite tree nodding in the summer breeze. Slowly, he reached out to touch the silken pale petals and watched in detached horror as they slowly turned red and shriveled away under his fingers.
He was on his back, one Guard poised above his, thrusting violently down his opened throat while another held his legs up, pulling him open for the fist that pushed deep inside him. The pain was hallucinogenic, lifting him into a blood-red haze.
He was arcing through the lake's chill waters, surfacing with a shout into his Master's strong arms. He smiled and reached up, his eyes widening as his hands circled the scorched and cauterised neck of the decapitated raider. He spiraled into the water, down further and further until the pressure choked him. He felt himself held from behind, felt the undulating curl of icy scaled skin moving against his abraded flesh. The Water-Ogre, an old creche-tale creature, pushed its wavering fingers into his anus, pulling him down to a drowned death, just like in the fairy tale.
"Go on, let it have him. No matter." Laughter bubbled through the waters of his mind, hazy and muffled.
"What is it anyway?"
"Ketasian Sal-vort. Trained to use and abuse. I think it likes him."
The slippery creature had him suspended, held in mid-air by tentacle-like limbs. Tendrils curled around his nipples, pulling them into peaks. More circled his cock and balls, another pushed down his throat. Down and further down until it was far past his gag reflex. The beast's organ unfolded past his quivering anus, pressing deeper and deeper until he shattered as both met somewhere inside his body. The whole creature pulsed and throbbed inside him, rubbing and pinching his genitals until his body exploded in a terrifying orgasm, then subsided into miserable quiescence. It continued to throb and swell until the tearing pain in his guts mercifully took away any consciousness and he began to slide into darkness.
As he began to fall away, he felt the chill that was overwhelming him.
"Just leave him here. No bacta."
"Too bad. Oh, well..."
The voices faded away.
He was so cold. The pain was nearly gone, lost in a frigid cocoon as sensation ebbed and the darkness called with soft, seductive tones.
XXIV
In the dim corridors of the Temple, one never expected running feet. Shouting was out of the question, yet Obi-Wan was roused by muffled yells. The servant-companion his sponsor had given him two months ago snored heavily in the small ante-room of his quarters. Obi-Wan sat up groggily. The banquet that night had been so long and he had drunk so much wine! His head ached a little and he wrinkled his nose. There was an acrid smell in the air. Sniffing, he cautiously slid out of his high bed, his toes reaching for the floor. He slipped on his sandals and grabbed an over-robe, urgently whispering to Saoric.
"Get up. Get up!! Something's wrong!"
"Wha'? The tall servant bolted upright, took a long breath and raised a big, seven-fingered hand to the chamber's door. It was hot.
"Obi-Wan, I need you to stay calm. Can you do that?" Saoric's large eyes were dark pools in the shadows.
Obi-Wan identified the smell: smoke. There was a fire. He began to tremble, biting his lower lip and nodded. Billows of grey-white smoke began to drift under the door and Saoric grabbed him and fled to the balcony. From there, they could see the flames dancing in the corridor's transparent length. There was no where to go but down.
He couldn't move he was so frightened. He was only twelve years old and even to adult eyes, the Creche Tower was enormous. He was shivering as Saoric lifted him over the railing onto his back and began the climb down to the next story. Obi-Wan could hear the beating of his own heart in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face buried in Saoric's pale blue hair. The cold seemed to envelop him completely...
He was singing in his favourite garden, all alone and enjoying a warm summer's day. Slightly offkey, he warbled a tune at a bumble-bee, laughing aloud when his breaking voice betrayed him with a colouratura squeak. Lucky for him no one was there to reprimand him...
He knelt at a formal autumn banquet, wondering what pin was stabbing him from his sash. Saoric must have forgotten to remove them. He shifted on his knees a little, then gasped in real agony...
He was still there, staring at a cold, white ceiling. A tearing pain pulled inside him, and he wanted to curl up into a ball, but he couldn't seem to make himself move. His eyes swam as he rode out the spasm, then sank again into dreams.
Mace followed Qui-Gon into the passage-ways below the Senate complex. Both seemed to melt into the shadows when passed. No one noticed or commented on their presence. Jinn moved with astonishing speed and silence for a man so big. They paused outside a formidable-looking door.
"Tha's it." Qui-Gon murmured. "Get Jax down here. And Tryyl. We'll need them." He pulled back into an alcove as a pair of Guards passed them, palmed open the door and disappeared into the grey, utilitarian corridor. Only his eyes caught the light. Mace watched them, gleaming and beautiful, like the deceptive gasjet explosions of a Bedeliian fireswamp.
Darial stammered his way through the Council's interview and retreated to his office, his mind a whirlwind of fear. He could only hope that Hyrass had reduced that Sith-spawned Padawan into cinders before Lord Jinn got wind of what had occurred. It would be easy enough to spin-doctor a tale of the Poor Pitiful Padawan, so revolted and terrified by his barbaric Master, that he chose to disgrace himself and the Temple by running off into the night, never to be found. It would place the blame solidly on Jinn's shoulders, and the brat's. The Temple would have to return the purchase price, which was bad, but he could handle that with a little help from his Mid-Rim friends in the Xaennon casinos. At least they wouldn't have to pay damages if his story was accepted. A runaway Padawan was responsible for his own dishonour. Even if Hyrass failed to hide the body adequately, the boy's death could be easily labelled a suicide. Either way, Darial felt safe enough to begin his report to Senior Senator Palpatine.
Tryyl worked the palming mechanism open with his usual technical skill and the four Jedi moved into the corridor warily, following Qui-Gon's lead. The place was cold and barren and the Force around it stank of death and despair. Jax poked his head into a large chamber, eyeing the tiled cubicles, then turning his attention to the wall. It looked like a mausoleum of some sort.
"Tryyl, I sense somethin' here. Can you get this open?" he hissed.
Neither one could speak as the stasis bank doors all opened simultaneously. They could only stare in horror at the wall-full of victims, held in a frozen parody of healing. Dimly, Tryyl turned from the rows of young bodies to hear his cousin retching against the far wall.
"F'all the ghods sakes, Jax!! Don't let Qui-Gon see this."
"See what?"
The silence in that chamber of hoped-for death was eerie. Mace's vision blurred.
Quietly, Qui-Gon palmed the stasis-bank closed. He threw his comlink at Tryyl. "Get the fleet commander. Tell him to change the target coordinates and get me a ground crew. Now."
"Jinn, no!! It's too soon. We've only half the fleet in place and---"
Mace's voice faltered. Qui-Gon's eyes were pale and still.
"And leave them here? Ya know the first thing they'll do is shut down life support. I'll na leave one for those monsters. Y'hear me!" He was striding towards a inner corridor lined with small chambers.
"Not one!" He hissed over his shoulder, beckoning Mace. "You two, cover our backs."
The hallway grew longer and longer. It seemed he would never reach the place where he could feel Obi-Wan's presence, hazy and distorted and weak.
The closest thing he could compare it too was falling through the ice on the lake once, when he was very young; the stabbing chill that threatened to rob him of sense or momentum. His whole body went cold, his breath the only sound.
Obi-Wan lay sprawled on a steel table, limbs twisted in a mockery of abandon. Qui-Gon doubted for a moment that it could be his Padawan, this bruised and blue-lipped ragdoll. Where was the golden warmth of his skin, the russet waves of hair that had drifted across his face in slumber?
Qui-Gon's hands shook uncontrollably as he reached for the collar and Mace stopped him gently.
"Easy. We'll have to do this together. Those implants go deep. If you just pull it free, you'll tear his throat out."
Each moment was a small century as Qui-Gon eased the implants out of the bruise-mottled neck while Mace's dark hands covered the punctures to heal them. Obi-Wan's Force signature finally sang clear and the song in Qui-Gon's mind was a farewell. Nearly frozen with horror, it took every bit of his discipline to gently lift the limp body and wrap his cloak around it. The boy lolled in his arms, shorn head drooping like the flower stripped of petals, hanging from a broken stalk. He was growing weaker by the moment.
"Mace, I've got to get him to the Syrene. He needs a healer now."
Mace nodded grimly. "Jax and Tryyl will cover here."
There were footsteps in the outer corridors. Swiftly, Qui-Gon tightened his grip on his limp burden and fled to the doors. An entire troop of Guards moved at precise rhythm down the hallway. Jax and Tryyl moved forward, sabres ignited, clearing a path for Mace and Qui-Gon.
The big man raced at blurring speed, down the labyrinthine corridors to the lifts. Mace took the controls and it shot upward to the closest landing pad. Gently, Qui-Gon tucked the cloak around Obi-Wan's still form, still cradling him as the hover-car darted through Coruscant's early evening traffic. Only now did his vision seem to grow watery as he felt the rough stubble that was once a soft mane of hair beneath his chin.
"Stay wi' me, lad. Just stay here. Don't ya dare leave me now, Obi-Wan." He didn't even realise he had spoken aloud.
Within ten minutes, they had left the short-distance transport and were safely in Syrene's golden belly.
Qui-Gon stalked down to the bridge toward the sickbay, barely constrained by Obi-Wan's limp body. One hand hung loose and swung like a pale pendulum in time with the Master's long strides. The dark blue velvet cloak seemed to glow in terrible contrast to his blue-white pallor. Gently, Qui-Gon laid him down on the table, glaring at the small Healer who half-turned to watch him. Her face softened as she reached out one finger, tracing the ashen lips, eyes never once leaving Qui-Gon's face. The muscles in his cheek twitched for a moment. His lips seemed to move but there was no sound.
Then two other Healers entered the small room and he was crowded away, straining his eyes toward his still padawan until the door closed. His eyes shut, he just stood there for a long moment, then turned to the bridge.
Tryyl and Jax had sectioned off the Guardhouse and an additional dozen warriors had joined them, effectively ending armed combat. Qui-Gon slumped into the console chair.
"Syrene, I need that place locked down."
"As you wish, Dulaan." The pleasantly metallic voice sounded oddly sad.
"Target noted. Also, I need full battle-array on four locations. Can ya do it alone?"
"Yes, Dulaan, but only for a short time while holding a stasis field over this target."
"Ya won't have to keep 'em long. I'm clearin' out that wasp's nest if it kills me," he growled, hunching over the console, his big hands moving swiftly across the moving, melting controls panels.
// Trust her, Dulaan. //
Syrene did not venture any other comment. Whether or not she could see the grim twist to Qui-Gon's face, she certainly could sense his mood as he punched in a comlink to the waiting fleet commanders and began barking orders in rapid-fire Remwaran.
Obi-Wan bobbed gently in the tank, his body glowing in the pearly red fluid. The bruises were nearly gone already, and he slept deeply, without dreams. Maera Dubh turned from the bacta tank controls, her small body's movements efficient and brisk.
"Will he...?" Mace's voice was very soft.
"Oh, he'll be fine. Nice, that!!" her heart-shaped face twisted into a strange mirror of her brother's as she grimaced. "Wha' were they doin' with him?!! He's a human, not a mining project!"
"Qui-Gon's summoned the Council and the Captain of the Republican Guard."
She snorted. "Aye, and while they're palaverin' away wi' him, he'll be havin' the twin terrors clear out th' Guardhouse. Are these folk tha' sure o' themselves or d'they just have donkey's brains?!"
Mace hid a grin under a slight cough. Her blue eyes darted at him.
"Ye'll want tha' checked, too, Master Windu! Now stop clutterin' up my space. Once Jax and Tryyl get that place, there'll be a madhouse in here. Rest o' the fleet in place yet?"
"Almost."
She made a hurumphing sound, very much like her brother's occasional growl of frustration when things didn't follow his plans perfectly.
"Tha' man'll be late to his own bloody funeral. Tell him---"
"Tell me what?" Qui-Gon loomed over her. Mace swallowed another lopsided grin. Master Jinn has an uncanny way of materialising in the midst of conversations today, he thought.
Two pairs of blue eyes met, then both turned to gaze at the still form drifting in the ruby-coloured tank.
"He'll be fine," she said flatly.
There was a long, painful silence. Neither Mace nor Maera seemed to be able to keep focused on anything for long. Neither wanted to watch the way Qui-Gon's face contracted. Maera reached out and touched his hand briefly.
"Don't ya have somethin' t' loot?" she rasped. "Now get out o'here."
For a tiny moment, they eyed each other, her dark head tilted back to face him. His eyes softened, then grew diamond bright and hard.
"Aye. Mace." He beckoned and whirled out of the door.
XXV
Within hours, the entire planet's holonet system buzzed with the unthinkable.
Coruscant itself was hostage: the invasion fleet had secured the Jedi Temple, the Senate, and all twelve of the planet's massive environmental control plants. Coruscant, the great capital of the Republican Alliance, had crumbled beneath the stealth assault like a house of cards. The only real fighting was far below the Senate floor, where bodies had piled up like seaweed at ebb tide. Formidable as the Republican Guard were, they could not hold off trained rogue Jedi wielding lightsabres. Tryyl's clairvoyant intelligence network had been more than effective. Not only had he located the Guardhouse, but his operatives on the planet had locked down all the target areas like a swift winter wind. Once the remainder of the fleet was in place over the southern hemisphere of the planet, Qui-Gon felt secure enough to leave the bridge to Jax. He paused only to look into the sickbay, where his sister laboured.
Each ship had taken a portion of the pitiful Guardhouse victims and still they had run out of bacta tanks and were forced to use those in the horrid place. There had been only four casualties and a few minor wounds among the invaders. It was still more than their commander thought necessary. His face set in mask-like serenity, Qui-Gon filled the door to the bay, eyes burning towards the tank where Obi-Wan floated.
Maera's dark hair flew untidily about her face under the air vents.
"Get outta here!!! I dinna need you takin' up space."
Her brother glared at her. "Just tell me how he is, woman!"
She glanced over at the tank and its sleeping occupant. "He'll be fine. Now go down there and settle this before I've more t'handle!!"
The corridors of the Temple were eerily silent and empty. All the crechelings and unpurchased Padawans had been herded into the main dining hall, under guard of the invading army. The elder Padawans were inclined to bouts of tears and temper and the Creche-Masters had their hands full trying to calm them. The little ones were braver. One or two even confronted the odd warrior with big eyes and beautiful little faces set in stubborn lines. To their great surprise, their hair was ruffled with laughs and they immediately set about coaxing the strange folk with glowing swords to play games with them.
Qui-Gon's bootheels rang against the marble floor as he advanced on the Council Chamber, flanked by Tryyl and his wing commander, Kared-Ty. They were followed by a supporting battalion that separated at the great door. Half remained with Qui-Gon while the others moved inexorably towards the Senate to join Mace's force. Qui-Gon had planned his attack carefully. Internal operatives had already shut down communications from the Senate and locked the huge dome, making the entire ruling elite prisoners in the midst of their own pleasure quarters. There would be the odd skirmish or two, but without the Guards, there was little doubt that any demands would be quickly met.
The Council Chamber buzzed with low, frightened voices. Hyrass stood beside Darial and Palpatine's chairs. As Temple Guardians, they were always required in Council, especially considering the grave charges levied against Senator Darial, who shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His superior was not at all pleased with the turn of events. His normally bland face was grim. Darial squirmed again. Damn, he had been such a fool to trust that lying servant. Padawan Kenobi had been Senator Palpatine's pet. Worse, the Senator clearly did not believe his report of the boy's flight after the dinner party. Hyrass had no such qualms and rested his weight on one hip, staring down his accusers with an arrogant glare.
Qui-Gon strode to the centre of the chamber and turned in a slow circle, his head thrown back, eyes half-closed. His lips curled into an icy smile.
"Ya know why I'm here. My Padawan was abducted last night and subjected to such abuse as I'd not give the worst o'you."
The Temple Council Head inclined a coiffured head towards him. "You have proof of this? According to our Guardian, the Padawan in question ran away."
The snap of the big man's fingers was like the report of an ancient pistol. Two of his men yanked Zath into the room. The servant hung in their arms, his eyes completely blank. Tryyl activated a small holo-projector.
For fully half an hour, the horrified Council members listened to Zath's reports from Remwara to Darial, all carefully recorded and dated. The last entry indicated the transfer of credits from the Junior Senator's account and the conversation about the 'bedslave'.
Immediately, voices were raised in protest.
"Bedslave!!! That's no Padawan!!
"You are out of order, sir!!!"
"I demand further proof!!"
Lord Jinn whirled on them like a huge feline. "Proof is it ya want? Proof!?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.
The holo-projector now showed the terrible images of the Guardhouse. Despite the urgency of the situation and the horror of it, Qui-Gon had known that Tryyl would document every step. There again, in eerie blue-white, like a small ghost, was Obi-Wan's poor broken body, limp in its dying abandon. All noise had ceased, except for the soft sound of Senator Palpatine's footsteps leaving the chamber. Darial gulped. He was alone now.
He straightened his spine and took a long breath. "Lord Jinn, this could be manufactured!! That poor creature could be anyone. I agree that your Padawan is gone and the Temple must, in good faith, return his price. Less, of course, the year's counting. But no damages will be given. You cannot prove your case."
He finally dared to meet the big man's eyes and was surprised to find them gentle, almost kind.
"Ah, but what of this? Can ye explain this?" Jinn's voice was almost a lullaby. Darial shook off a feeling of dreamy slumber.
Then he went white. The holo-projector showed an image of Governor Meryck of Xaennon, but the audio was his own voice as they discussed shaving a percentage of the Ceruspa casinos to make up the price of a prize Padawan. How had that pirate known? The hapless Junior Senator had no way of knowing that the comlines conveniently placed about the Governor's villa had been planted by Jinn himself, months earlier. He stared back at Qui-Gon and found himself drowning in a pair of eyes that spelled death.
// Always easier t'tell the truth, Senator. //
Darial shook his head again. "What?"
// The truth... // The lilting voice echoed in his mind and he felt as though he were tumbling through a bank of clouds. He barely registered the sound of his own voice.
"Yes. Yes, I had the servant watching...he reported to me monthly...he said there was a bedslave...I called Captain Hyrass...it was too late...too late when I knew it was the Padawan..." Darial's voice drifted away dreamily.
// Yes....tha's it, the truth...// That warm voice melted in his mind, safe and soft, a resonant song.
"Yes, we owe the damages. Three times the boy's price..."
The blue eyes boring into his lit like fires. "I expect it immediately. Along wi' your arrest, of course."
The murmurs of the Council were shocked as two of Qui-Gon's men escorted Darial out of the chamber, while the man still drifted in the dreamy grasp of Qui-Gon's mind.
"But that will bankrupt us! The Temple itself!!" The Head Council ventured very low. Lord Jinn smiled at him without humour.
"I wouldna worry about it much. Ya'll have little t'say here anyway from now on. Now, you."
Qui-Gon stared at Hyrass, then pointed. "You."
"I follow orders."
"No one orders a Padawan to the Guardhouse!" one Council member protested softly. The twelve of them tittered like a flock of scared canaries lost in an eagle's eyerie.
There was a long, silent moment as the two big men faced each other. Then Hyrass smirked.
"And I suppose you'll just help yourself to my mind? Afraid to fight like a man, you overblown thief?"
Qui-Gon cocked his head to one side without a word.
"You are nothing. Nothing but a bloody pirate who fancies himself some kind of ancient Jedi!! Bah!! Coward!" Hyrass spat.
Everyone had backed to the circular chamber's windows, leaving the two men to circle each other warily. Qui-Gon handed his lightsabre over to Tryyl and took the two big knives that Kared-Ty produced from under his cloak. He tossed one to Hyrass.
"Let's say that we handle this th' way I would back home." His smile was terrifying.
Hyrass charged first, lunging forward with startling speed. Jinn parried him easily and they traded a few blows, feeling out one another's skill.
"A coward is it?" Qui-Gon's voice was low, amused. "And what are you?" He struck with blinding reflexes, slashing a long cut along the Guard's left arm. "A rapist? Murderer of children? A monster?" Qui-Gon was laughing softly, dancing out of the man's way.
Hyrass launched himself forward and sparks flew from the metal blades as they clashed and rang. They backed off again. This time Hyrass had drawn blood: Qui-Gon's right wrist pulsed crimson. He ignored it and switched swordarms although his face twisted in pain.
There was another ringing flurry of blows and Hyrass staggered back with a cut to one cheek. His eyes darkened and he plunged at Qui-Gon furiously, pulled back a moment, then pushed upward with the hilt of the long knife, connecting with the big Remwaran's jaw. Jinn arched away in a back flip and a blank, almost ecstatic expression settled on his face. His eyes grew paler until they seemed to drain of colour altogether.
When he charged forward, he was a blur. In less than a second, he had leaped over and behind the Guard.
"This is for my honour." Jinn's voice was very soft, but the muscles of his jaw tensed as he plunged the knife into Hyrass' gut and ripped upward to the collar bone. Time seemed to have frozen as the startled look on the Guard's face petrified into death and he slid down to the marble floor. Qui-Gon's eyes were blue-white lasers that swept across the chamber unseeingly as he fell to his knees. He grabbed either side of the bloody gash and yanked the tremendous wound asunder.
He flipped his mane of hair forward into the gaping torso then up again in a great arc, blood flying to spatter the watching Council, his men, the windows in a scarlet rain.
"Tha's for Obi-Wan."