Master Apprentice Archive Potemkin Quick search:

Potemkin

by MrsHamill (mrshamill@gmail.com)

Archive: MA and my site, Mom's Kitchen (www.hawksong.com/~momskitchen)
Category: Drama, kitchen sink
Pairing: Everybody and their uncle, too.
Rating: Sex and violence; not necessarily in that order. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Summary: Go look up 'Potemkin village'.
Disclaimer: What, you think I own these guys? Do I even look like George Lucas? If this is not what you expected, please alter your expectations. No such thing as random coincidence. No such thing as too much lubricant.
Warning: Never say 'bite me' to a cat.
Series: The post-Wheel series. For information and a directory on this series, go here: http://www.hawksong.com/~momskitchen/Wheel_stories/cast_of_wheel.htm.
Notes: I am not even going to bitch about this story, because I could go on for far too long! Lori rolled her eyes, smacked me on the head and made me write it the right way. Lisa, as usual, calmly took my hand and told me what was wrong with it. Clara had to listen to me whine ad nauseam, but still treated me like a grown-up and not like the child I was being. Claude, of course, beta beyond par, ended up being a sounding board as well as a beta to this story (in several incarnations, no less); bless her for both. Blame me for any errors left, though. Oh, and since I haven't the vaguest idea what the next story will be like, don't hold your breath for it. Sorry. I will try to get to it soon, for anyone who's still interested.

The Marauder was shaking violently and every single emergency sound was going off, a blast of noise that Obi-Wan wasn't able to block. The hyperdrive console was completely shorted out from the blaster fire, and a quick glance down told him there was nothing on the main panel in the green at all. Red lights blinked in time to his headache from the screaming beacons.

Another blast, this time closer, and the Marauder shuddered harder as he yanked her over. "Where's that damn cover fire?!" he shouted over his shoulder, still wrestling with the controls. Her response was sluggish at best, but he had enough forward momentum to carry her to that damn space station growing rapidly in dead center of the view port. He had to hurry -- if they got another charge out of that monstrous ion cannon, the Marauder was history.

Well, he amended internally, she was history regardless. There was no turning back from this one. But he was going to see it done before going up in flame. He owed it to the members of the team who gave up their lives for it.

Two streaks went past on either side of the ship's view port, heading for the Death Star, firing as they went. Good, at least two of their fighter contingent was still aloft. Everyone else was probably dead, as dead as Qui-Gon, as dead as he was...

With a last bone-rattling squeal, the emergency notifications cut off. Glancing down, Obi-Wan saw everything still red but at least it was quiet. "I yanked the soundcard." Siri's voice was harsh and raw as she scraped the door to the control room closed behind her. Obi-Wan didn't have to see her to know what she looked like -- like a refugee from a war-torn planet, covered in burns and wounds from her empty eye-socket to the shattered arm strapped to her side to the makeshift bandage covering the hole where part of her shin used to be. She looked much like he did, in fact.

"Thank you. Where's Bruck?"

"Dead. Spaced."

"Shit."

"Yeah." The Marauder lurched and she grabbed hold of something and hung on. "I'm going to try and get those blasted dampers online again; you're never going to get anywhere without them."

"Screw that; take weapons. We're coming up on the last pass this bucket is ever going to make."

"You'll never get a clear shot without the inertial dampers online!"

Before Obi-Wan could reply, one of the fighters was hit and destroyed. Probably Jayden; Maul was the better pilot. "We'll manage," he growled, "we have to. This is it, we're out of options. I'm going to shove her down the damn thing's throat and take out the reactor core."

"How are you going to do that?!" Siri sat on the chair before the weapons console. "There isn't enough room to get her through the unfinished side!"

"There's enough." There had to be enough. Even if he scraped off her thrusters, there would be enough room. "I'll blast it bigger, if I have to, but this is it, we have got to take that damn thing out! If it gets finished, if it gets usable by that asshole, the whole fucking galaxy is screwed!"

Siri didn't reply to that, she didn't have to. She knew he was right.

There was more blaster fire coming from the station, which was looming larger and larger before them. It was a headlong flight for the Marauder and Obi-Wan red-lined the thrusters -- what was left of them -- in an effort to get every last ounce of speed. Before he could dodge one shot, the last fighter zipped in front of them and took it, square on. They flew through the hot particles, all that was left of their last fighter, the last of eighteen, the end. It was only Obi-Wan and Siri, now.

Soon, they'd be gone as well.

The ion cannon was charging again. They were so close Obi-Wan could see the electricity form around the ring that took up half the station's northern hemisphere. Even scaled back as it was, the Death Star lived up to its name. They were too close now, far too close for the cannon to effectively get them, though they were being riddled with blaster fire from the various towers and automated defense turrets. What little shielding the Marauder had left was concentrated forward, protecting them and the last weapon still working, the forward cannon. A high-pitched whistle from behind him caught his attention before he realized what it was; the hulls were breached, and the only thing between them and what amounted to empty space was the control room door. He hoped it would remain in place long enough for him to get to the core.

They were going too fast for finesse. Obi-Wan wrenched the controls over and the Marauder gave him her all, but it wasn't enough. They got through the unfinished chunk by losing what was left of the aft section, causing the ship to wobble dangerously, slamming into struts and beams rather than going around them. One such impact made the transparisteel of the forward view port crack and star, making it even harder for Obi-Wan to maneuver.

"Do you have target?!" He screamed the words over his shoulder, over the increasing whistle of air escaping, over the groaning shudder of the Marauder's death throes, as he desperately piloted her through the maze of the half-finished station.

"Almost!"

"Almost isn't good enough! I need you to get target now, Tachi!"

"Just a little closer... come on, you fucking..."

"Tachi!"

"Got it! Target acquired!"

"Fire, dammit! Fire!"

Siri slammed her good hand down on the firing pad just as Obi-Wan saw it, the reactor core, clear as day and twice as deadly. The forward cannon fired and he wrenched the controls around again, trying against all odds to swing around the core and maybe get them out.

The Marauder tried, but she was just too far gone. The cannon blast hit the top half of the reactor, causing it to crash into the bottom and explode, just as the Marauder slammed into both, obliterating both crafts in an enormous blast that lit the sky above Endor's forest moon.

Obi-Wan gasped himself awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. He was drenched in cold sweat and his heart was hammering... what a dream, a nightmare. So very vivid, so detailed, he could even remember the anguish of knowing Qui-Gon was dead and gone, could even feel the thinning air in the control room, could still smell the burned flesh and bloody wounds in what air was left.

Next to him, Qui-Gon rolled over and reached for him in his sleep, muttering indistinctly. Obi-Wan sank back down on his pillow and let himself be cuddled, still feeling the effects of that horrible dream. As his heart slowed to a more normal tempo, he tried to figure out where it had come from, even as he let the low thrum of the Marauder's engines soothe him.

That's where it must have come from -- they were actually on the way, now, and it wasn't possible to put off thinking about the fight to come, though at least they wouldn't have to deal with the Death Star, since it was unlikely Tyranus could build it on his own. They still had a day in hyperspace, then after that, Yavin. He had terrible worries over what would come after that.

Behind him, Qui-Gon snuggled and his arms tightened around Obi-Wan's body. Letting the comforting aura of his mate calm him, Obi-Wan finally made it back to sleep.

Most of the materials for their encampment on Yavin had been sent long before, but the large cargo hold of the Marauder was still half-full, with extras and forgottens and their own luggage, since they had no real idea how long they'd be gone. Obi-Wan knew that Maul, at least, did not intend on returning to the Temple before Tyranus and Fett were turned into sparkly atoms from his lightsaber and blaster.

Qui-Gon said nothing about Obi-Wan waking the night before, so Obi-Wan relaxed and tried to forget about the dream, chalking it up to stress. In truth, though, he wasn't the one most stressed in their relationship at the moment; Qui-Gon had been worried all along that he wasn't fit enough, yet, to help on the mission. He still had problems thinking about being penetrated, though those were beginning to fade. His physical injuries were long gone, and his strength was up to normal. He just didn't believe it.

Mace Windu finally had enough of it and all but dragged Qui-Gon down to the hold to spar. Obi-Wan, Maul and Jayden cheerfully cleared a large space and stood by to heckle them.

"Jinn, the only reason you could be unfit for this mission is age. I've always said bones get creaky as you pass into the elder years, but you've always told me that's bollocks."

They were stripped down to undertunics, and circled each other warily, their 'sabers at low power. "If you're trying to incite me into attacking you, you're not doing a very good job of it." Qui-Gon's face and voice was calm, but Obi-Wan knew his mate better than anyone in the galaxy -- though trying to hide it, he really was nervous.

"Fine, then. I'll be more direct."

With that, Mace launched into a furious attack, aiming blow after powerful blow at Qui-Gon, driving him across the space they had, step by step. Qui-Gon met each stroke, though he started frowning the farther across the room Mace pushed him. Finally, Mace pushed him so far back that he nearly stumbled into some cartons behind him. He managed to parry Mace's stroke, but at the cost of his shoulder banging hard into the cargo. With a frustrated snarl, he finally went on the offensive, ducking under Mace's guard and raining his own set of hits down on his friend.

Obi-Wan tried to watch the match objectively, tried to see it from the perspective of someone judging impartially. It was just too difficult for him, however; Qui-Gon Jinn was poetry in motion, from his boot-clad toes to his sweaty hair. He effortlessly combined the height and reach of a tall man with the agility of a much smaller one. While he didn't like to use the aerials Obi-Wan favored, he didn't need them. His power was both blatant and subtle, and Obi-Wan decided all over again that Qui-Gon was male beauty personified.

Not that he was prejudiced or anything.

Now they were really into it, trading strokes and parrying almost too fast to see. Obi-Wan admired the muscles on Qui-Gon's back as he lunged forward, throwing Mace's blade over and coming in from behind, with a neat pivot on one foot. Mace anticipated the stroke and managed to parry, but it left him in a compromising position and Qui-Gon took immediate advantage of it. Now it was Mace being driven across the floor, desperately fending off Qui-Gon's attack.

After another ten or twelve minutes of watching Mace and Qui-Gon fight, Maul turned and murmured to Obi-Wan, "Ten dataries says Qui-Gon will end it with a win in less than ten minutes".

"Sucker bet." Obi-Wan grinned at his friend for a moment before turning back to the bout.

Mace finally managed to rally and stop Qui-Gon's charge, though it was a close thing. Having tested each other's strength, they were moving with more finesse, circling carefully between attacks. Both men were panting and sweating heavily, but neither showed any hint of quitting. Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon was now deeply into the fight, forgetting his insecurities in the pleasure of the exercise. Because he was watching for it, Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon shift his weight to his left foot and draw back. He knew what was coming and had a tough time hiding his smile.

Sure enough, a moment later Qui-Gon launched an attack that Obi-Wan knew was a feint, since he had fallen victim to it twice before figuring out a counter to it. The feint drew a reply from Mace to the left, at which time Qui-Gon whipped around, fast as a striking gundark, to a slashing move with his foot which caught Mace over-extended on the parry. Qui-Gon pushed with his foot and shoved with his arm, and Mace went down. He landed heavily on one buttock only to find Qui-Gon's green 'saber hovering at his neck.

They were both breathing so heavily that it took Mace a few moments to say, "conceded," and for Qui-Gon to reply, "accepted."

"You are... going to have... to teach me that... move," Mace gasped as Qui-Gon extended his hand to his friend to help him up.

"Not on your life," Qui-Gon replied. He was still panting, but was recovering quickly. "I taught it to Obi-Wan and now I can't beat him."

"Yes, but I still can't use it against you," Obi-Wan said, laughing as he tossed Qui-Gon a towel. Jayden had one for Mace; both were gratefully accepted.

No mention was made of Qui-Gon's fitness or unfitness for duty. Obi-Wan knew his mate, though, and knew that while the match didn't allay all his fears, it had gone a long way towards doing so.

After Qui-Gon's fight with Mace, Maul and Jay took advantage of the space already cleared to get some sparring in themselves, then all of them did a few katas to stretch their muscles. Siri and Bruck joined them, even though Bruck was rusty at the beginning forms. When they finished, Mace announced there would be a preliminary mission briefing after everyone ate latemeal, which brought the tension back.

No one liked being on the mission. They all knew that they were going to slaughter several thousand sentient beings -- yes, they were clones, but they were not droids; they still lived, thought, hoped and feared. It was far easier to think about fighting Tyranus and his cronies than consider the mass death they knew they would have to perpetrate. It made Qui-Gon vaguely ill to consider it, and he knew he wasn't the only one.

He was most worried about Obi-Wan and how he would react. And no, he realized it wasn't a rational feeling, but it was there nonetheless.

After eating, they used the cargo hold as a meeting hall. "Everybody have a place to sit?" Bruck Chun's deep voice cut through the babble of people making themselves comfortable. As Mace Windu settled and powered on the holoemitter temporarily placed in the middle of their space, Siri Tachi grabbed Chun and yanked him down to the deck, promptly claming him as a chair.

Mace's voice cut through their good-natured bickering and brought everyone's attention to him. "We've got a lot to cover here, and we'll be arriving tomorrow, so we need to get this over with."

He turned on the holoemitter and raised the display until everyone could see it, unimpeded. "We've got them confirmed on Endor, on the forest moon, and the latest data show that they're in for the long haul."

Qui-Gon blinked. The picture showed the big gas giant Endor and its small satellite. But around the forest moon there was another satellite, one that shouldn't be there. The picture zoomed in quickly, becoming grainier as it got closer, but details could still be made out. It was the Death Star, a realization of the plans Maul found in Tyranus' headquarters on Geonosis.

"Oh, gods." Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan and was startled by how pale his spouse had gone.

"Obi-Wan?" he murmured. Obi-Wan shook his head sharply and didn't speak or look at him. Qui-Gon had to wonder why he would be so startled to see the Death Star -- it wasn't as though they didn't know there was the possibility of it existing.

"What is that?" Siri's demand wrenched Qui-Gon back to the briefing.

"That is what is known as the Death Star," Mace replied. He froze the image. "Maul ripped a DSU out of Tyranus' computer bank and the plans for this thing were on it. It does appear to be smaller than the specs we've seen, though we couldn't get any closer to confirm that."

"How did you get these in the first place?" Jayden was frowning at the display.

"Buried a passive sensor array in a comet." Chun's voice sounded smug and cocky, and Obi-Wan snorted. Qui-Gon spared him a quick glance and was relieved to see him looking less shell-shocked, but with a frown still marring his features. He was obviously paying scant attention to the discussion and was turned inward, in himself.

"You did what?" Jayden's and Maul's face carried twin expressions of surprise and envious respect.

"Took advantage of a comet making an in-system orbit, planted a passive array and let it go." Chun shrugged, grinning at their shock. "It was easy."

"No, it wasn't," Mace said with an eye-roll, "but it was effective. We couldn't get any closer, but what we've got is clear. The station looked to be almost half done two months ago, when we got these pictures. Tyranus has several thousand clones working on it, and probably has more labor as well -- we know the Hutts have been supplying him." Mace rotated the display. "We weren't able to get much on the unfinished part, unfortunately. But it does look like the ion cannon -- here -- is mostly complete, something which is not a good thing, and which moves our timetable up precipitously."

"That's an ion cannon?" Siri looked almost sick. "I thought it was a communications array."

"I wish." Maul's voice was uncharacteristically harsh and Qui-Gon gave him a sympathetic look.

"The problem is going to be getting close enough to it." Mace turned the display so that the moon was central. "It looks like they're covering the station with a shield generated from a complex on moon, and that's going to have to be taken out before we can destroy the station."

"That's assuming we can destroy the station."

Mace stared at Jayden. "That is not an option." His voice was as hard as Jay's had been. "The station must be destroyed. We cannot allow anyone else to get hold of it, period. The station has to go, one way or another -- hopefully with the last of the specs on what went into it."

"Is that the primary mission, then?" Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan again, as he spoke.

"Yes and no. The primary mission is three-fold: shut Tyranus down, destroy the clones, destroy the station. Not necessarily in that order."

The room was silent for a long moment before Siri spoke up again. "We're going to need help, you know. There's no way the eight of us can take on the entire clone army this gonof has, even with the virus in our pocket. And we don't know if he has any other fighters than the clones."

Mace was nodding. "We've anticipated that. Bruck has hand-picked fifteen pilots and we have eighteen fighter ships waiting for us on Yavin, in the old Massassi ruins that will be our ops base while we ready ourselves. We've also got fifteen experienced Jedi waiting there. They do not know about the virus and they will not be told; only the eight of us have that knowledge. The rest of the team has been told that this is an operation to halt a legacy plan of Palpatine's. That is the cover we will continue. They know that Ventress is waiting for them, but Tyranus' involvement with the Jedi is unknown to them."

They all nodded slowly and Qui-Gon glanced around. He found his teammates wearing very sober expressions, weighted down with the knowledge of what they were about to do. Obi-Wan was once again staring at the floor; his hands were tight fists. Qui-Gon resolved to speak to him later that evening.

"I realize that seems paltry next to what we're up against," Mace continued after a moment. "But we're figuring on a quick, surgical strike here. We need to take them by surprise, sweep them down and out the door. Anything else, any more protracted fight could turn ugly, fast." He sighed and rubbed his hand over his head. "We cannot assume that the virus will immediately take the clones down. We may end up fighting some of them before... well, before they succumb."

Mace glanced at Dotrick, who was expressionless. "Along with determining how to transport our crew to Endor, while we're on Yavin we'll also refine our plan of attack," he continued. "I think it should be split into three parts -- the first being the specific targets of Tyranus, Fett, Sing and Ventress. They are all trained fighters and will be on their guard. While we take them on, a secondary strike team will destroy the shield generator, after which the fighters, in the third part, will take out the Death Star."

Everyone in the room was nodding, clearly working out logistics. Mace turned the holoemitter off and slowly turned, looking at each member of the team. "Kenobi, Jinn, Maul and I will be assigned to the four main targets; I would like to combine that aspect with the destruction of the shield generator. To that end, I suggest we take with us ten of our secondary contingent -- their goal will be to blast the shield generator down to make the station vulnerable. This does assume, of course, that our targets will be on Endor, in the shield building. If they're on the station, that's even better. The fighter squad and the Marauder will be in place to stop any ship trying to leave the satellite before it's destroyed.

"Tachi, Youmous and Chun are assigned to the fighter team and the remaining secondary contingent, though Chun's main assignment will be here, aboard the Marauder, directing the destruction of the Death Star once that shielding is gone and ensuring no ship leaves the station. Dotrick is assigned to the clones and the distribution of the virus; she has no real team but will go in with us."

"I would suggest that I go in with one or two scouts first, to distribute the virus." Dotrick's deep voice matched her face and was expressionless.

Mace nodded. "We'll need to work that out on Yavin, while we set up and determine how to stage the attack. We'll obviously need quite a bit of scouting before we move on the headquarters; I think you're right, that would be a good time for you to distribute the virus. We can use your telepathic ability as a cover, if you think it would help. Having someone with the scouts who can sense other beings as easily as you do could only be a benefit." Mace turned from her to the rest of them. "The planet has a primitive sentiency, called Ewoks -- some of you might have heard of them. Two of the Jedi meeting us on Yavin are Wookiee, Chowwaba and Lattamachak. There's enough similarities between Ewok and Wookiee that they should be able to open a dialogue, to get the indigenes to help us, especially in the scouting part."

"Ewoks are surprisingly dangerous on their home turf," Jayden supplied, and everyone turned to him. "I've been on Endor before. Don't underestimate them due to their size or level of technology."

"A good point. I believe both our Wookiee Jedi have been on Endor in the past, so I'm certain they'll have further insights." Once again, Mace glanced around the room. "Any questions?"

Well, yes, Qui-Gon thought. Questions that couldn't be answered... he had plenty. But there was no way around it, now. They were committed to the mission and all of them knew -- there was no quitting and failure was not an option.

"There's one coming now -- looks like it might be our man. Are you ready?"

Obi-Wan waited until he heard a softly-voiced acquiescence through the radio's earpiece before melting out of the shadows of the alley. Further down the alley his double, Ben, waited in apparent unconcern, leaning against the grimy wall. They were here hoping to find yet another 'supervisor' to the boy they'd captured the week before. It had been a long, slow climb up, hunting by night and training by day, but it was worth it. This one would be the one to give them more information; Obi-Wan was certain of it.

"You looking for someone, Jedi boy?"

Obi-Wan heard Ben's answer both ways; from the mike pickup and from being close. "Maybe. Why do you ask?"

"Because I hear you're looking for me, and I don't like being looked for."

Yes, this one was clearly far more intelligent -- and consequently, more dangerous -- than the lower-level ruffians they'd been dealing with.

The man reached under his short jacket and Obi-Wan moved in, pressing his own blaster against the man's lower back. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Ben copied Obi-Wan's move with his own blaster. "Get his weapon, Ben."

With a quick, practiced move, Ben flipped out the man's blaster and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. They didn't assume he was unarmed, though; that was one of Obi-Wan's first lessons.

Obi-Wan turned him around and pushed him against the wall, still covering him with his blaster. "We understand you work for someone we've been looking for," he said casually as he inspected the man. "You're Fett, aren't you?"

Fett's eyes narrowed as he glanced between the two of them. Obi-Wan hoped the appearance of two Obi-Wan Kenobis was keeping the man off-balance. "How do you know my name?"

"I've heard of you. But it's not you we really want to talk to, it's your boss. And you're going to help us get to him."

"Dream on, Jedi boy. Tyranus doesn't want to see you... well, except to kill you. I'd stay out of his way entirely, if I were you."

"Thank the Force, you're not me." Obi-Wan yanked Fett away from the wall with one arm, leaving Ben behind the man. As they'd arranged, Ben slammed his lightsaber hilt down on Fett's head, knocking him out cold. Obi-Wan let him fall down to the wet, nasty pavement while he put his blaster away. "Let me search him and then we can get this baggage back to the Temple. Keep your eyes peeled."

"There's no one around for quite a ways. Do you have any idea who this Tyranus is?" Ben stayed well back and covered Obi-Wan as he searched Fett's body, producing three more weapons.

"No idea. I take it the name's not familiar to you either?"

"Sorry."

Taking a moment to ensure Fett would remain unconscious, Obi-Wan heaved him up and threw him over one shoulder. "I've got him... cover me and let's get back to the Temple, right now."

"I agree."

Ben remained on the alert, watching for trouble, all the way back. Obi-Wan knew they were close, now. Soon, they'd find out who was behind the trouble the Temple was getting and he'd be on his way again, to the next reality.

The soft chime announcing their exit from hyperspace woke Obi-Wan with a start. There was no one next to him in bed, but before he could even think, Qui-Gon came out of the tiny 'fresher attached to their cabin. His face showed his concern as he quickly slipped back into bed with Obi-Wan.

"Are you all right?"

Flustered, uncertain where the feeling was coming from, Obi-Wan blinked rapidly. "Fine. I'm fine. Why? I mean, what...?"

"We'll be landing in about two hours," Qui-Gon told him, anticipating him. "We don't have to get up before then, however." He stretched out on their bunk then propped his head up in his hand to look down at Obi-Wan. "You've had nightmares the last two nights, haven't you?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, I... well, I think so; dreams at any rate. They haven't been the usual ones, so quit hovering."

"I'm not hovering." Qui-Gon tried to suppress a smile and failed. The concerned look in his eyes faded slightly. "Well, not hovering for that reason. You mean it wasn't one of the ones you normally have?"

"No... I think it was just nerves. It was something from my journeys, but nothing bad, actually. I think it was just stress from your fight with Mace and the meeting we had and what do you mean, not for that reason?"

In answer, Qui-Gon leaned down and gently kissed Obi-Wan's mouth. It was then that Obi-Wan realized the hard thing poking his hip was Qui-Gon's erection, and he forced himself to relax and smile.

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

They smiled at each other and Obi-Wan relaxed further. It had to be nerves causing the nightmares, nothing more, and it wasn't like they were true nightmares. Well, maybe the first one. "I think there's something that can be done with that." Which should also banish the last, lingering traces of the panic he felt from the dream.

Qui-Gon still wasn't up to being penetrated, though he had brought the subject up once or twice in the past couple of weeks, as they geared up to head to Yavin. Each time, Obi-Wan had kissed him and reassured him that the time would come, there was no race to finish. They rediscovered the joys of mutual blowjobs, of hand jobs in the shower or tub after exercise had left them hot and sweaty. Obi-Wan cheerfully admitted that he always had loved Qui-Gon's hands, those big, warm, meaty paws that could easily engulf both their cocks with heat.

One of those hands was now on his own genitals, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes, the better to feel his mate's gentle touch. He was half-hard already, just from it being morning, and he let Qui-Gon stroke his flesh, gently encouraging his erection to grow. "Feels good," he murmured.

"It's supposed to." Qui-Gon's teasing voice carried a note of something else, and it made Obi-Wan open his eyes.

"What?" Qui-Gon looked down but Obi-Wan followed him with his eyes. "You're brooding again. That's not allowed while we're having sex."

Qui-Gon snorted a laugh, but didn't really look up. "I'm just thinking."

He was also continuing to stroke Obi-Wan's increasingly happy erection, which made it difficult to concentrate. This was one time, however, when Obi-Wan didn't have to concentrate to know what was going on. "Well, stop it. Thinking: bad. Sex: good."

That made Qui-Gon laugh. Obi-Wan rolled them over, so that he was on top of Qui-Gon. "Sex very good," he added. "And so are you." He started kissing Qui-Gon's neck, then trailed the kisses down to the broad expanse of his chest.

"I'm still thinking... maybe, that... oh! Uh, maybe I should trade places... do that again! With Jay, you know, just in... ohhh..."

Nibbling delicately on Qui-Gon's nipples, Obi-Wan mentally shook his head. "Husband mine, we've been over this. If you can't trust me to be impartial on your physical fitness, then trust Mace." Obi-Wan gave him a wicked glance. "I can guarantee he wasn't holding back when you fought."

Qui-Gon groaned, at least partially in response to what Obi-Wan was doing. "I think I can guarantee that too. My shoulder still hurts..."

"As does his ass! You didn't wipe the floor with him, but you came damn close. So let it go." Once again, the nightmare panic rose in him and he stuffed it back down. "I want you with me in this. You're ready enough. If it'll help, we'll work for two hours a day while we're on Yavin. But you're truly ready." Obi-Wan swallowed and bent his head to a much better task than thinking of his stupid dreams -- sucking Qui-Gon's brains out through his cock.

"If you... ohhh..."

With his mouth full of a very large, very hot erection, it was difficult to smile, so Obi-Wan didn't try. Instead, he concentrated on making it good, getting his mate to forget his language skills as well as his worries over the upcoming battle. It would come -- just like Qui-Gon would -- when it came, and they would win. They had to. Anything else was unthinkable.

Obi-Wan had always enjoyed the taste of Qui-Gon. There was a unique flavor and scent about the man; a little spicy, very musky, totally addicting. And Qui-Gon's erect penis was much like he was -- big and strong, powerful and beautiful. Obi-Wan caught Qui-Gon's eyes from across an expanse of lovely flesh as he sank his mouth down, over the crown, over the loose foreskin, down as far as he could go. He knew that Qui-Gon loved it best for him to go as deep as he could, just as Obi-Wan preferred strong suction to going deep.

The flush of color strayed from Qui-Gon's face to his chest as he watched Obi-Wan slowly bob up and down, each time taking a little more into his mouth, into his throat. There was plenty of saliva coating it now, making it slick and easier to swallow, and Qui-Gon's pants were taking on a staccato sound. Obi-Wan let one of his hands drift down to fondle the testicles that were drawing up nice and tight against Qui-Gon's groin, then behind, pressing and rubbing against that bit of flesh where it felt so good.

Qui-Gon gasped, and Obi-Wan glanced up again. Qui-Gon's face was thrown back and his eyes were closed. His hands were fisting the bedclothes tightly and his legs were shaking -- he was close, just how Obi-Wan liked him to be. On other days, he might have drawn this out, he might have slowed his sucking and licking only to speed up again, driving Qui-Gon wild with it. Not this morning, though. They didn't have the luxury of being able to make love for hours, they were on a mission.

With deliberate intent, Obi-Wan swallowed as much of Qui-Gon's erection as he could, sucking strongly, then rubbed his thumb gently over the entrance to Qui-Gon's body. It was like an electric shock went through Qui-Gon; he arched and shot into Obi-Wan's mouth, only one shocked grunt betraying how hard his orgasm was.

Obi-Wan swallowed, then swallowed again, taking the bitter seed gladly. That Qui-Gon would be able to come after such a touch thrilled him, made him believe that his mate was finally, really recovering from his hideous abuse. He could wait forever if need be, but knew it was important to Qui-Gon. All Obi-Wan wanted to do was love his husband. It didn't matter how old that husband was or what emotional baggage he carried, all that mattered was he was there, he was present, and even if they never made love again, it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter to Obi-Wan, because simply being held by Qui-Gon Jinn was making love enough for him.

The flood of ejaculate stopped and the cock between his lips began to grow soft before Obi-Wan took his mouth away. He put one last, gentle kiss to that softening member before stretching up and cuddling into Qui-Gon's side. His own erection pulsed quietly in time to his heartbeat, but it could wait.

Yes, having his love there and whole was good enough for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Yavin was hot and steamy. Qui-Gon hadn't been there in years, so had forgotten just how uncomfortable it was. They were all stripped down to bare minimum dress within half an hour of landing, and even then, shorts and singlets became drenched with sweat almost immediately. Siri kept threatening to go naked, and Bruck kept encouraging her to do so, and their constant, silly exchanges helped the morale of the core group -- something that needed help.

The other Jedi and pilots already on Yavin had set up most of the encampment before they arrived. But there was more equipment to off-load from the Marauder and each Jedi, or pair of Jedi, had to set up their own, private accommodations and unload their own luggage. They were using the huge space in an old, ruined Massassi temple as a training area, a launch bay and community rooms, including the droid-staffed kitchen, and even with all that, they still rattled around in the huge space. The Marauder herself took up less than a tenth of it. The habs, as the private housing units were called, were necessary as there were no livable spaces in the half-ruined temple.

They were under an isolation order. No one was to send or receive any transmissions from anyone or thing off-planet. They, the original eight, knew the whole reason why, but the others did not. The Jedi and pilots who had been waiting for them suspected there was something going on that they were not privy to, and it made for a strained tension most of the day. Qui-Gon knew it would get worse before they left for Endor, and hoped Mace could contain and redirect it. He was also quite certain he didn't want Mace's job for this mission, and resolved to be as agreeable as he could for the duration. He didn't need to be adding any problems to Mace's load.

By the end of the day, everyone was tired and in a bad mood, including Bruck and Siri. Just after the communal late meal, Mace stood and got everyone's attention. "We've done well today, people. Thank you for all your efforts. We're going to start tomorrow with a complete mission briefing, something I'm sure will make you all happy. Then we'll start strategizing the attack, as our timetable has moved up a bit. We've done so well here, I don't see why we can't start the strike part of the mission in two weeks."

Qui-Gon kept his groan silent, but knew it was shared by everyone in their group. Then again, the pictures of the Death Star showed it being close to halfway done, so perhaps Mace was right.

"Morning meal is an hour after dawn and will be followed immediately by the briefing. We've got an extra two hours in the day here, so let's utilize them. Has everyone gotten their personal shelter up? Speak up now if you need help, because I plan on collapsing approximately two minutes after we end this."

Everyone chuckled, which helped lighten the overall mood.

One of the first things taken care of after the shelters went up was making sure the cooling machinery was in place and working. The habs were not much more than one large room and 'fresher, but it was wonderful to have your own, private shower in your own private, cool space. Qui-Gon might have wished for the huge bathtub in their quarters on Coruscant, but one couldn't have everything, and walking into blessed coolness, shutting out the humidity and heat, was well worth the sacrifice.

Obi-Wan had beaten him to the room, and was in the shower already. Unfortunately, the shower stall wasn't big enough for two, but still, he wasn't complaining. When Obi-Wan was done, he took his turn after a brief but heartfelt kiss. Qui-Gon didn't even bother drying his hair before he joined his mate on their bed and fell into exhausted sleep.

Oh, it felt good, so very good. Encased in the tight heat of his husband, Obi-Wan struggled to hold off his incipient climax, slowing his thrusts and closing his eyes. If he opened them, he'd see the passion-glazed eyes of his lover and that long, creamy column of flesh on his neck, so tempting.

But closing his eyes meant he saw with his mind, and all the agony of the past weeks came home to him, again, making his groan of pleasure come out like a sob. So many dead! And Tyranus gone, missing... the man could be anywhere.

Unbidden, the picture of Fett cradling his dead child came back to him. The knowledge they had now that so many blameless slaves were aboard the Death Star when it was destroyed filled his head again. The voices of the innocent Ewoks killed by Tyranus' last, desperate charge against them railed against his happiness.

"Don't think, love, don't think." His husband's voice was raspy and dry. It could have been worse, he could have been dead, had actually come close to it. So many of his friends had been lost... so many lovers of his friends. "I'm here. I really am, and I won't leave you. Remember? Thinking: bad. Sex: good."

Obi-Wan chuckled, though his heart wasn't in it. "I love you," he said, once again speeding his strokes, trying to make it good, trying to dispel his despair and pain by getting lost in pleasure.

"I love you too. Oh! Yes... come on, Obi-Wan, harder... please!"

"It's so good..." Yes, keeping his eyes open was better. Forgetting the horrible mission, now behind them, finally, was better. But he could not forget, would not forget the people they'd lost... Mace... Siri... Qui-Gon...

"No thinking! Oh, gods, yes... I'm..."

Obi-Wan froze as Maul arched and came, his semen splattering his belly, the scent of it filling Obi-Wan's nose. With a few last, hard thrusts, he came too, feeling equal measures of anguish and bliss. Collapsing, he buried his nose in Maul's neck, trying to keep from crying.

Maul was apparently having the same problem. "There is no death," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. There might have been only the Force, but Obi-Wan wasn't certain he wouldn't have followed his lover to it, had Maul died. As Bruck Chun had done, after Siri.

"But it's not over," Obi-Wan said, also in a whisper. "Is it ever going to be over?"

Maul didn't reply, other than tightening his arms around his spouse.

When Obi-Wan woke, it was the middle of the night, and he found his face wet with tears.

Qui-Gon hadn't woken. Gently disengaging himself from his husband's arms, Obi-Wan sat up, putting his feet on the floor and his head in his hands. After a few moments, afraid he might wake Qui-Gon if he stayed, he rose and stepped into a pair of shorts and Qui-Gon's blue silk robe and left their hab, closing the door silently behind him.

Nighttime didn't really help Yavin's atmosphere much. The bulk of the gas giant around which Yavin orbited turned the night into pastel blues, almost bright enough to read by. The jungle outside their cluster of habs was alive with sound -- rustles, whistles, purrs, chomps, scuttling, distant roars and the soft cooing of night birds -- but all of it at a remove from where he was, how he felt.

He had no idea what was going on with his subconscious. At least the last dream had no direct prescience attached to it, unlike the first dream... he hoped. No, he knew. In the dream, he had not been married to Qui-Gon, he'd been married to Maul.

After taking a moment to shove his unease aside, he made his way into the ruined temple, looking for a snack or perhaps a cup of tea to soothe him back to sleep. His muscles protested, reminding him of the unfamiliar work he had been doing the day before. He rotated his neck, trying to relax his muscles that had tightened in worry as he walked.

There was a small light on in the big, open-sided hab they used as a kitchen, and he could hear a kettle singing. To his surprise, it was Bruck Chun who stood at the large cooktop reaching for the boiling water.

"Can't sleep?"

Chun turned at the sound of his voice and gave him a mildly surprised look. "I think I'm still on Coruscant time." He indicated his cup next to the teapot before continuing. "Grab another, there's plenty here."

"What are you making?"

"Blessla blend."

"Good choice." Obi-Wan got another cup out and watched Chun pour the water onto the leaves in the pot, sending up a fragrant aroma. Blessla was a natural relaxant; maybe it would help him go back to sleep.

"So, what's your excuse?"

Obi-Wan didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Nightmare."

Chun winced. "Yeah, I can see that. I think I'm going to have nightmares after this one is over. That station... gods."

"At least it's smaller than the original plans."

"Something I can hardly believe, to tell you the truth. But yeah." They stood in comfortable silence for a time while the tea steeped. "Windu said that Maul found it? The plans to the station."

"Mm-hm." Deciding it had been long enough, Obi-Wan picked up the pot and poured them both a cup. "We all found it, after we traced Tyranus to Geonosis."

"How'd you do that?" Bruck moved aside, then settled on one of the high stools next to the food preparation area. "I mean, all I've heard about this whole thing was at the briefing before we left. I just wonder how it happened. Windu said this Tyranus chum was a Jedi?"

"He was. Until Palpatine got his claws into him." Bruck winced and Obi-Wan sighed. "Yeah. I don't know exactly what happened to him, but it must have been pretty bad -- you heard what Dotrick said. Maul didn't even know about him, and... well, you know about Maul?"

Bruck nodded. "Hard to believe, but yeah."

Obi-Wan nodded, again pushing aside the dream that woke him. "He's absolutely the nicest guy you'll ever meet and a hell of a Jedi, but he had it tough for the first half of his life. You should have seen him before the gene surgery."

"You know, there are times when I'm glad I didn't become a Jedi. This is one of them." Bruck took a sip of his tea then wrapped both hands around the cup. He wouldn't meet Obi-Wan's eyes.

Snorting in agreement, Obi-Wan sipped his tea. "So, anyway, Maul knew where Palpatine's base of operation on Coruscant was; he took us there. We found enough evidence to direct us to Kamino and Geonosis."

"And that station."

"And the station." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Palpatine... it may sound trite, but he was like the ultimate in evil, if that makes sense. Sith is one thing, we've been taught they're just The Bad Guys." Obi-Wan glanced at Bruck to see if he was following, to find Bruck still staring into the liquid in his cup. "But I have to tell you, the Palpatine I saw on my... you know, he was more than just a bad guy."

"The real bad guy." Bruck's head came up and he met Obi-Wan's gaze as he spoke, softly. "Not the one that lives under the bed, but the one you think is your... friend. The one you trust."

Obi-Wan felt a burst of sympathy for Bruck. Asajj Ventress had a lot to answer for, regardless what had happened to her as Dooku's padawan. He nodded and sighed, and Bruck went back to staring into his cup.

"So, what happened with Palpatine's place on Coruscant?"

"Qui-Gon blew it up." He grinned at Bruck's almost comical look of surprise. "Qui-Gon has a tendency to grand gestures. The place held a lot of Dark Force energy, not to mention bad memories for Maul. So, once we'd cleaned it out, Qui-Gon blasted it to rubble. It was all owned by Palpatine through different fronts, so it was subject to confiscation anyway."

Bruck barked out a laugh. "Blew it up. Remind me to never get on your husband's bad side."

They ended up talking until dawn finally broke, about two and a half hours later. They both knew that they would be exhausted by the end of the day, but Obi-Wan thought that might be good for him. Perhaps exhausted sleep would mean no dreaming.

Qui-Gon wasn't surprised to find himself alone in their bed when he woke. As attuned to Obi-Wan as he was, he knew his spouse had been having dreams or nightmares that were sufficiently unsettling that he would not want to go back to sleep. He felt reasonably certain that Obi-Wan was telling the truth and the dreams weren't a part of the series of nightmares Obi-Wan used to have, the ones which often make him scream himself awake. These dreams were different, and though Obi-Wan dismissed his questions, Qui-Gon resolved to try and tease the information out of him, somehow. Non-invasively.

The day was another hot and steamy one, with still more work to be done. Mace's mission briefing that morning left everyone shell-shocked and appalled, something that seemed to be a normal response to the first sight of the Death Star. The pilots appeared to be already plotting out an attack on the thing; Bruck Chun was heavily involved with them most of the day. Maul and Obi-Wan split their time between the pilots and the land-based attacks.

The bulk of the day was spent devising scouting and attack vectors and sparring. Of the whole team, Qui-Gon felt most sorry for Lattamachak and her mate, Chowwaba. Those heavy pelts of fur must have been stifling in the heat and humidity. While Endor and Kashyyyk were deciduous forests, Yavin was more of a jungle, and it didn't help that they had arrived in the middle of the monsoon season. The rain that pelted down frequently wasn't exactly refreshing, it was more like precipitated sweat. It even smelled a bit like it, or so Qui-Gon thought -- to himself. No need to share that observation.

The Wookiees were to take point in the scouting missions, though, so they had to be involved in pretty much every aspect of the mission. They welcomed Dotrick's help, figuring her telepathy would be an asset to scouting, as much if not more than the Ewoks. And of course, there was no guarantee the Ewoks would even help them.

Aside from listening and watching, Dotrick kept to herself. Though she was a Jedi and carried a lightsaber, she did not spar and would not take part in any antagonistic movement other than what she needed to do with the virus. Qui-Gon felt troubled for her, worried about her, but didn't know how to articulate either, or even if he should. She was the only true healer on the mission, though one member of their team, Ionge, was a crack field medic. As a rule, healers didn't go on missions where there was any possibility of hostile action, as the vast majority of them found aggressive maneuvers contrary to their oaths. Qui-Gon was very much afraid that the slaughter of the clones was going to prey on Dotrick's conscience.

It was very important they decide then rehearse what was to happen once they landed on Endor. For many reasons, they had to assume there would only be a short window of opportunity to not be discovered by Tyranus and his army. Their scouting and attack had to be planned with pinpoint accuracy, all contingencies covered as best as possible, and everyone had to know what to do and when to do it.

It bothered Qui-Gon that the virus and its effects had to be kept secret from the rest of the mission participants. He understood why, of course, but he felt it just increased the burden on their core eight. And he was already wondering how they were going to explain a phalanx of fighters, each looking precisely the same, lying mysteriously dead on the field of combat. He resolved to bring it up in private to Mace, perhaps with Obi-Wan present as well.

By the end of the day, they had made progress in assigning tasks to various personnel. The Temple had supplied them with sufficient explosives to blow a crater into Endor large enough to see from space. It would be more than sufficient to take out one large shield complex. Mace started training every Jedi on the mission on the use of the AT-PT walkers; they had two, provided by the Temple, again, though Qui-Gon didn't want to delve too deeply into how the Temple acquired them in the first place. There was just enough room in the Marauder's cargo bay for the two walkers, partially disassembled. Once the mission was over, cargo ships would return to Yavin for the rest of their gear.

It was after dinner that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan finally managed to catch up with Mace, in private. Obi-Wan brought with him a four-pack of cold root beer -- Qui-Gon hadn't mentioned why he wanted to see Mace, but apparently Obi-Wan felt a peace offering was prudent. They sat down in Mace's hab for both privacy and for the coolness.

Qui-Gon outlined his reservations about the clones' death quietly, and Mace let him speak. "I'm not sure how we're going to reply to the questions that are going to arise, whether we want them to or not." Finished, Qui-Gon looked earnestly at Mace, hoping his friend wouldn't take his words the wrong way.

Mace rubbed his face with one hand, then took a swig of root beer. He looked terrible, now that Qui-Gon saw him up close... there were dark circles under his eyes and his face was lined. "That's a good question. I wish I had an answer for it."

"Surely you've thought of this..."

"Oh, yes, we have. In depth." He shook his head. "Qui-Gon, the truth of it is that what we're doing is probably illegal on several fronts." Taken aback, Qui-Gon glanced over at Obi-Wan to find him just as surprised. "We're doing it without Republic authority. Hell, we're doing it without Republic knowledge. They have no idea what you found on Kamino, nor do they know of Geonosis' destruction. Oh, I think Valorum suspects something is up, and he might even have an idea of what it is -- he remembers Palpatine and what he almost became. But he doesn't know particulars and he doesn't want to know. He's made that clear to Yoda and me several times."

Stunned, Qui-Gon sat back in his chair. He glanced again at Obi-Wan, but his husband was staring at the floor with a frown on his face, his half-empty bottle of root beer dangling between his spread legs. Realizing he really needed to say something, anything, Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "I really... don't know what to say here, Mace. You've got problems that go beyond -- far beyond -- where I actually thought them to be."

"This is something that needs to be done." Obi-Wan spoke in a monotone; his voice was almost but not quite sad or hard, Qui-Gon couldn't decide between the two. "We can't allow Tyranus, Ventress, those clones... we cannot allow them to live. They pose a threat to the Republic that is unparalleled."

Mace stared at Obi-Wan for a few moments without speaking. He took another deep breath and nodded, while turning to Qui-Gon. "Now you see our dilemma. Qui-Gon, you said it before, I think, we don't like to attack. Jedi are supposed to be defenders of the living, not mass murderers. But Tyranus has put us into this position, and we're boxed in."

"It's a dead-end. A wall." Obi-Wan nodded and drained his bottle.

"Exactly." Mace scrubbed his face with one hand again. "Obi-Wan, you know the possible outcome of a Sith-controlled Republic. You've seen it, or at least been on the fringes of it."

Obi-Wan nodded, wordlessly. He finally raised his head to look at Qui-Gon; his eyes showed incredible anguish.

"So when Adi reported what had happened on Kamino to Yoda and me, the three of us had to make a very difficult decision. We knew what had to be done, but how to do it... we could have waited. We could have gotten the Senate involved, the office of the Chancellor. We could have done this the legal way."

"But by then it would have been too late," Qui-Gon murmured. "He would have finished the Death Star and done... whatever the hell he plans on doing."

"That damn station. The plans that Maul gave us were terrifying. There's enough firepower in that thing to destroy an entire planet. A planet, Qui-Gon. If it's completed, at even half the size of the original, there would be no stopping him."

"He would become virtually invulnerable."

Mace and Obi-Wan locked gazes and Qui-Gon felt a little sick.

There was silence in the hab that was so profound, Qui-Gon could hear the noises of the jungle outside. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath, releasing his fear and apprehension to the Force. "They're going to find out, eventually. Our teammates, I mean."

"They'll figure part of it out within an hour of the assault," Mace confirmed. "It's going to be hard to hide, I imagine."

"You're operating under the assumption that it's easier to ask forgiveness than to seek permission," Obi-Wan said. His voice was level and he stared at Mace. "Which is fine as far as it goes, but I think perhaps a heads up, as we're on the way there, might be in order. I'm not suggesting a complete briefing, but perhaps warning them of the clones, and how... 'delicate' they are."

Mace slowly nodded as the idea worked through his brain. "The pilots will probably never see the clones." His voice was musing, and Qui-Gon could feel him tapping into the Force for guidance. "They won't even be close until we take out the shield generator -- I'm hoping to keep them off Endor all together."

"We'll -- I mean, all the Jedi -- we'll have no choice but to be on Endor. We'll be dealing personally with the clones that are planet-side." Qui-Gon could see where Obi-Wan was heading, and began nodding as his spouse continued. "I think it's more than probable that most of the clones are on the station, working on it. And the pilots will undoubtedly figure that out, that they'll be killing an unknown amount of people by destroying the station."

"It would be easier for us if the clones are on the station, but you're right, though I would prefer to keep us off Endor as well." Mace looked a little better, though, for the thought. "There are too many unknowns. In large part, we're going to have to make this up as we go along, and just hope we are ready for all contingencies."

"We're pretty good at that," Qui-Gon said, taking Obi-Wan's hand. They smiled crookedly at each other then at Mace, who gave them a tired smile back.

"BACK! Get back and down! Now!"

Mace and Donis came out of the bunker at a dead run, shouting as they went. They were the last to leave the building; everyone else had cleared out prior to their leaving and headed for cover. Qui-Gon yanked Siri and Obi-Wan away and down, behind the ruined AT-PT, rolling them further down the slight hill the bunker sat on. Obi-Wan could see Mace using the Force to augment his power as he sailed over one of the many fallen logs and dove for cover, followed closely by Donis. Just as they did so, the bunker exploded in a huge, earsplitting roar, followed by a series of smaller detonations as the various power supplies in the building went up. The large shield generator dish slowly toppled down into the ruins, officially giving their fighter pilots something to do.

The Death Star shone pale in the early morning sky above them, surrounded by little flickers of light -- the defense weaponry of the station and their own fighters, attacking it. Now that the shield was no more, the fighters should have a clear target and should be able to destroy it without much trouble.

The bunker was still burning merrily when Lattamachak came tearing up on a swoop, roaring about a problem at the Marauder. Siri leapt up and ran to her, but Lattamachak merely turned her bike around and yelled at them to hurry, leaving them all to scramble for their own bikes.

The Marauder had been put down in a large clearing about two klicks from the bunker, after they'd secured the area and sent the fighter contingent after the Death Star. Apparently, they hadn't secured it sufficiently because as they got closer, they could clearly hear the hum of lightsabers and the sound of blasters.

They had thought Xanatos was on the station. Either he hadn't been or he'd left it after hearing about the attack on the shield generator, because he was leading a large group of very healthy-looking clones on an attack of the Marauder. There were enough attackers that as Obi-Wan's group approached, they were able to turn and pin them down as well.

Obi-Wan leapt from his bike, igniting his 'saber as he did, deflecting blaster fire back to its source even as he flipped over Siri and dove for the scant cover available. The clones with Xanatos showed no sign of viral infection, and Obi-Wan had the brief thought they must have been isolated, living away from the bunker. The Marauder was being defended by those who were apparently caught outside of her; they were using her bulk as a shield and Obi-Wan could see one of the Jedi was down, but he had no idea whose boots were peeking out from behind the gangway. He could see Jayden, Chowwaba, Gar and Ionge using blasters and both Jay and Gar had their 'sabers lit as well. There looked to be more Jedi farther aft, but from his position, he couldn't be sure.

There was no sign of Bruck, though, and that worried him. Bruck would have had no reason to leave the Marauder, would he?

The battle was brutal but short. The clones were no match for trained Jedi who were completely focused and extremely motivated. Shortly, every clone in the clearing was down, but their leader, their 'father' after a fashion, had made a mad, reckless dash for the ship and somehow managed to avoid a killing blow. He ducked inside the main entry followed by Siri and Obi-Wan; behind him, Obi-Wan could hear Qui-Gon and Mace checking the clones, making sure they were all dead.

Siri was frantically looking for her betrothed, screaming his name as she tore through the ship. Maul was next to charge up the gangway, and after a brief, voiceless conversation with their eyes (You go aft, I'll take forward?   Right. Get Siri under control.) they split up and took off running through the ship.

Obi-Wan found Siri just outside the control room. He skidded to a stop and fell to his knees, barely avoiding a blaster bolt.

"Let him go, Xanatos!" Siri's voice was almost but not quite shrill.

"One more step, Jedi, and he dies! Get off this ship!"

"You have nowhere to go, Xanatos, this party is over! Now let Bruck go!" Obi-Wan hoped his voice carried aft to where Maul was. He knew Maul wanted Xanatos in the worst way.

"Not happening, Jedi! I said get off! I don't have to kill him, you know, he doesn't need his legs to fly this damn crate!"

Xanatos had wrapped one arm around Bruck's neck. He held blasters in both hands; one was pointed out at Siri and Obi-Wan, the other was pointed down at an acute angle towards Bruck's left leg. Bruck was nearly foaming with rage but one of his arms was limp, and a burn in the fabric of his jumpsuit indicated where a bolt had taken him, and Obi-Wan thought he saw a contusion on his forehead. He had to be hurt pretty badly; normally, Bruck would have been able to break such a light hold on himself. Xanatos began to slowly, awkwardly drag Bruck backwards, into the control room, though Bruck was making it as difficult as possible, using the hand on his good arm to grab hold of anything within reach.

"I'll die before I'd let scum like you take my ship," Bruck spat.

"You'll die soon enough, Jedi, and so will you two if you don't back off now!"

A small compartment built into the wall next to the control room door opened under Bruck's fingers, even as Xanatos pulled him further back. With a grimace of pain, Bruck reached into the cubby with his injured arm and snagged what looked like...

"I am not a Jedi!" Bruck snarled even as he keyed on the lightsaber and swung it out, severing one of Xanatos' arms in the motion. Siri took advantage of Xanatos' shock to leap forward and grab Bruck while Obi-Wan took careful aim with his blaster. Before he could fire, however, a shot from behind him took Xanatos dead in the face and he toppled like a tree.

Siri had Bruck cradled against her, examining his wounds, which appeared much worse than Obi-Wan had first seen. "Get Ionge!" she yelled, and Obi-Wan turned and pushed past Maul in his haste to get Ionge, wishing Dotrick were still alive to help.

"Obi-Wan?"

Groaning, Obi-Wan managed to pull himself away from dreams and into the arms of his husband. It was raining -- again -- and the sound of the rainwater on the fabric of the hab was soothing white noise.

"Are you awake?"

He mumbled something indistinct and burrowed closer to Qui-Gon.

"You were dreaming again. I'm... concerned about these dreams, Obi-Wan."

Well, so was he, Obi-Wan thought. They weren't exactly nightmares, though, well, after the first one. And maybe the third. How many did this one make? How many nights had they spent away from home?

"Perhaps we should go see Dotrick in the morning."

Obi-Wan sighed. If he could have avoided it, he would have. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't think they're bad enough to bother her with them." He swallowed. "It's not like she doesn't have enough things preying on her mind."

Qui-Gon was quiet for so long that Obi-Wan thought he might have fallen back asleep. A sigh disproved that idea, but Qui-Gon didn't say anything else.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan whispered. Qui-Gon tightened his embrace but remained silent.

Knowing that Obi-Wan didn't really want to bring up the subject of his dreams, Qui-Gon let the subject slide, even though he had reservations. The dreams weren't the 'normal' ones, the ones that woke Obi-Wan up screaming. And there were so many things to do in order to prepare for the mission, so many contingencies to prepare for, so many other things to say.

Prescience wasn't something that Qui-Gon had in great abundance. While he was attuned to others, could read body language and carried an empathy rating that was extremely high, peering into the future or even getting feelings of what might occur was something he'd only rarely experienced. But this time, for this mission, he had a host of bad feelings, a profusion of worries.

Too many things had to happen on this mission. There were four targets that were, to all intents and purposes, marked for assassination. There were several thousand copies of one of the targets, trained in killing Jedi. And then there was that damn station...

The record Bruck got for them of the forest moon and its artificial satellite was pored over, enhanced, repeated, speculated upon and reduced to component atoms. It told them nothing new, and they couldn't risk seeking new information. If the station had mobility -- something they had no way of knowing for certain -- tipping their hand by getting caught at surveillance would completely destroy any hope of surprise in the attack, and surprise was their biggest asset. Well, that, and the fact that the station was only halfway completed. Without the shield, it would be completely vunerable.

Fifteen pilots and eighteen craft. The extra had been supplied for various reasons, including the possibility of mechanical failure. Mace took it a step further and decided that their fighters would go into the fight in two waves of nine each, utilizing the best pilots of the Jedi for the extra three ships. The timing was precise; once the shield generator was destroyed, the fighters -- who would be at a safe distance from the station but ready lest any ship try to leave it -- were to move in immediately. They planned for hours how the first wave would follow the Marauder in but remain hidden behind the bulk of Endor until signaled to come in. As soon as the first wave engaged, the second wave would pop in, one more assurance that nothing would leave the Death Star before it was destroyed. Though he wasn't a military strategist on par with Mace Windu, Qui-Gon understood the idea and thought it was a strong one.

Bruck Chun and Mace frequently got into arguments over the use of the Marauder. The ship was stealth and should be virtually impossible to notice by any sensors. Chun, however, was from the school that believed anything that could go wrong, would, and always altered the landing and attack vectors to avoid any possibility of detection. Qui-Gon wisely stayed out of that fracas, though Obi-Wan occasionally offered ideas to it.

Taking a break at midday, Qui-Gon noticed Dotrick sitting off to one side of the temple, in a shaft of sunlight that had broken through the constant rain clouds. Her crest was fully extended and her eyes were closed.

He sat on the same bench but out of the sun and stretched his legs out in front of him, relaxing in the heat and reveling in the fact that it wasn't raining. "Feels good."

"The rain has been a source of some irritation," Dotrick said, without opening her eyes.

"To all of us," he agreed. Calming his mind, Qui-Gon opened himself to the Force and moved into a quasi-meditation state.

Yavin was alive, on every sensory level he possessed. The larger wildlife was being kept at bay with fencing that carried a mild electric charge, but that did nothing to stop the insects and smaller animals. Those had learned that a veritable bonanza existed around the Jedi encampment, and that the Jedi were easy marks when it came to begging. There were four birds and several smaller mammals hovering around him and Dotrick, even though they carried no food.

Qui-Gon knew he was a soft touch, and knew it wasn't completely a good idea to be so. It was in his nature, he believed, one of the ways in which his empathy came out. It was a good theory, at least, and one his spouse teased him on, unmercifully.

"It's also one he most admires in you." Dotrick's voice was so soft, Qui-Gon could almost believe he hadn't heard anything. "You're worried about something, and worried about telling me as well. You might as well be out with it."

He smiled. "There can be no secrets with you around, can there?" he murmured, feeling both rueful and sorry to have broadcasted his worries to her. "It's Obi-Wan."

"Ah."

When she didn't seem inclined to continue, he did, finally. "He's been having... dreams. Nightmares, I think, though I'm not sure of that."

"Not sure...?"

"He says they're not any of the 'usual ones.' And he hasn't woken up in significant distress from them, either."

Now that the problem was aired, Qui-Gon felt lighter, and was able to open himself to the Force even more. He let his worries slide away; what would happen would happen. If the dreams became more bothersome, they would deal with them then, together.

"A good plan," Dotrick said. She still hadn't moved or even opened her eyes. "This is a stressful situation to be in. I would be more surprised if we didn't have any emotional problems."

That was a good point. Resolving to simply be there for his spouse, Qui-Gon took a deep breath and released it, along with his tension. As he did so, the thick cloud-cover rolled back over the sun and he could feel the rain coming with it.

Next to him, Dotrick sighed and pulled her crest in. "It was good while it lasted," she said, and Qui-Gon chuckled before straightening and standing, moving back inside, out of the rain, to work.

The damned clones refused to die.

Even after infection by the virus, they fought until they were physically incapable of fighting any longer. Even the ones that looked dead Obi-Wan and the others had to inspect, just in case. It was frustrating and appalling and it was dragging the attack on for far too long.

They found outposts, dozens of them in a large circle beginning at thirty klicks from the shield bunker. The Ewoks had been of limited help -- they were able to tell the Jedi where the outposts were but not how many clones would be manning them or when they changed shifts. They split up, going in different directions while contaminating the outposts with the virus, trying to figure out when the clones would be rotated back and if they'd be able to spread it. It was a dicey operation; get close enough to inject the virus into an air-intake while still not being seen.

Slowly, much too slowly for their own sense of nervousness, the outposts became abandoned. Their hope was that Tyranus and his crew would think there was a communications glitch or something else. They knew, once inspection or reinforcement teams were sent, they would be out of time completely.

That time came both too quickly and too suddenly. One of the infected clones saw them. He jumped on a swoop and took off before they could stop him. Jamming his radio didn't appear to work either, as immediately, there were reinforcements coming, on swoops and in small, armored transports. The Ewoks' traps took many of them out before Obi-Wan and his team could do anything, but their leader was directly behind them and leapt off his swoop, igniting both ends of his blood-red 'saber.

Obi-Wan felt rage build in him and didn't bother to release it. It was the same tattooed, horned Sith demon who had killed Qui-Gon on Naboo. "He's mine," he snarled to Xanatos before wading into the fray, his 'saber lit.

"And I'm telling you that a strafing run using the Marauder would be the safest way to go!"

Mace and Bruck had been arguing for close to an hour over the question of how to destroy the shield generator. Mace favored using the Marauder, but Bruck was adamantly against that. The discussion had drawn in most of the other Jedi, but the pilots had given up early -- they knew that whatever the outcome, their duties would be the same.

"Of course it would be safer," Bruck replied with some heat. "Assuming she wasn't spotted first!"

"Why is this an issue?" Maul had come late to the party. "Isn't she stealth? How could they pick her up?"

"Yes, she's stealth, and yes, I don't think there's any sensor array now existent that could pick her up, but I also didn't think something like that damn station could be built, either." Bruck frowned at Mace and Maul. "And there's always eyeballs, dammit, and I can't prevent that! This gonof has what, fif--" Bruck immediately censored himself, clamping his mouth shut with a grimace.

"Bruck's right, Tyranus could have... could have people stationed around the shield building." Siri looked frustrated, at least as much as Qui-Gon felt.

"All right," Mace said. His voice was tired. "That's a point." He looked around the area in which they were sitting; their normal 'meeting' area, the tables in front of the kitchen hab. The Jedi outside their group were frowning and giving each other little glances. "I knew we'd have to deal with this, sooner or later." Mace looked at Qui-Gon briefly, and Qui-Gon nodded, almost infinitesimally, encouragingly.

"You've all suspected there's more to this mission than what we've told you. You're right. Tyranus..." Mace shook his head, hard. "Tyranus has help, in the form of humans. Cloned humans." Qui-Gon heard some in-drawn breath near him, but there was no other sound until Mace began talking again. "They're not, well, they're not very good. Meat droids, perhaps, maybe even less self-aware than that."

"They're easy to control telepathically, and I can control them." It was Dotrick who spoke up, giving credence to Mace's blatant lie -- the clones were far more than 'meat droids.' Everyone in the meeting area turned to see her as she spoke. Her scaly face was, as usual, emotionless.

Qui-Gon turned back immediately, so saw the brief look of gratitude which crossed Mace's face as he looked at Dotrick, before he spoke. "Yes, which is another reason why Healer Dotrick is so important to this mission, particularly the scouts. They may not be much in the way of enemies, but they will undoubtedly be around, and might have to be dealt with."

"So, there could be sentries on the planet, people we'll have to take out in order to get to the shield bunker... not to mention whoever is on the station." Gar's voice was utterly inflectionless, but his eyes were calculating. Qui-Gon knew Master Gar and knew he'd be coming to his own conclusions, but that he would keep those conclusions to himself.

"Yes. Though we hope that the station is mostly manned by the clones."

Bruck spoke into the silence left by Mace's last words. "That's just another reason why I don't want to take the Marauder in to a tight orbit to take out the generator. We don't know what we'll find on the planet, and need to be on the alert. The Marauder is the last ditch chance to blow up that damn thing, if the fighters can't take it out."

"Scouting is most necessary, and the Ewoks should be able to tell us much," Lattamachak warbled. "We have swoops which will take us in quickly should we need it, yes, Master Windu?"

"Yes, we have ten swoops that will fit in the Marauder with the AT-PTs -- barely."

Obi-Wan had been silent through most of the debate. Now he spoke up in a voice that sounded curiously numb. "Bruck is right. We can't risk detection of the Marauder by going close enough to the shield generator to strafe it." Siri was sitting next to Bruck and both of them turned to frown at Obi-Wan, but he apparently didn't see it or was ignoring it. "We need to land as far away from it as possible, while still close enough to use the swoops to get there."

There was silence for a few moments. Qui-Gon ached to put his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, but was afraid how the gesture might be looked upon by his spouse.

"It's not like we don't have enough explosives to take out most of the moon anyway," Bruck finally said. "Obi-Wan's way will take longer, but I think it has the greatest chance of succeeding."

"I would still prefer not to land at all, but perhaps you're all right." Mace shook his head again. "I'll definitely take all of this into account before making the final decision."

"If we could only get closer with a sensor array," Bruck muttered. Several people around him who heard his words nodded.

"We'll work on it, and I'll give all of you my decision tomorrow. In the meantime, I think Knight Donis had a request to make a presentation on the explosives we have, to get us all up to speed on them. Donis?"

The rest of the day was spent poring over holographic and static maps of the planet. They knew where the shield building was, and could extrapolate what they'd find if they did, indeed go in by foot and swoop. The two Wookiee Jedi led a discussion about the native population of Ewoks and how they might help, as well. And everyone waited for Mace to decide how the attack would be accomplished.

Tired. Obi-Wan was so very tired he felt it in his muscles, his bones, even in his hair. There were only two more hours in the day on Yavin than what they were used to on Coruscant, but those two hours were felt more as they acclimated. And it just meant another hour of sleep in which to dream.

Every night he'd had a different dream, and it already was the beginning of their second week. They weren't all nightmares. Some he'd awakened from and were bad enough that he didn't want to go back to sleep. Others, however, felt like they continued until he woke.

The timetable Mace had proposed was nothing short of brutal, but he understood the reasons behind it. They needed to get to Endor soon, they needed to get rid of the clones and destroy the Death Star as fast as they could, before Tyranus managed to get more supporters, before he finished the station.

He, Qui-Gon, Maul and Jayden had speculated on the reason why Tyranus had built the station, what he hoped to accomplish with it. The only idea that carried any resonance was that he wanted to use it to kill Jedi. Given his background, given what he had said in the meeting on Geonosis and before his fight with Obi-Wan, that seemed probable to the point of unity. It didn't help, but it did create in them the urge to hurry faster, to make even more haste.

Which meant each day was as busy if not busier than the last. When Qui-Gon entered their hab, he found Obi-Wan slumped on the side of their bed. He had managed to get stripped down to his shorts, but knew he must look pathetic. "Obi-Wan?"

"I'm sorry." Obi-Wan forced himself to raise his head. "I'm just tired."

"We all are." Qui-Gon voice was reassuring. He sat down on the bed next to Obi-Wan. "Perhaps I could help guarantee a restful night's sleep for you, if you'd let me."

They hadn't had sex since their arrival and Obi-Wan felt awful about it. He knew that Qui-Gon wouldn't complain, would never complain or even make notice of it, but Obi-Wan wanted the physical intimacy they used to have, before this blasted mission took over and the dreams started.

"I would like that," Obi-Wan said, leaning into his spouse's shoulder and feeling very much like a twelve-year-old. "I'm sor--"

He got no further because Qui-Gon put a finger to his lips. "Don't make me resort to masterly admonitions, Obi-Wan," he intoned. Obi-Wan snorted a laugh and smiled. "I love you. I'd love you even if you were a raving lunatic hooked on spice selling children to brothels."

"I should hope you wouldn't!" Obi-Wan couldn't keep a straight face, though, which he was certain was Qui-Gon's intent. He sighed. "I can't wait for this mission to be over." Perhaps then, the dreams would stop.

"Neither can I. Did you know there's a betting pool over when Master Gar will call Mace out?"

Surprised, Obi-Wan blinked up into Qui-Gon's face. "There is?"

"Yes. There's also a pool on the date when Siri will ask Bruck to pairbond."

Obi-Wan froze. In the dreams where both Bruck and Siri existed, they were almost always bonded or at least betrothed.

Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan's sudden spike of uncertainty. "What is it?"

Shaking it off, resolutely putting it out of his mind, Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath. "Nothing. Just a... Nothing." Plastering a smile on his face, he added, "Didn't you offer to wear me out a moment ago?"

He didn't fool Qui-Gon at all, but it didn't really matter. Instead of replying, Qui-Gon leaned down and caught Obi-Wan's lips in a gentle kiss. Without breaking it for longer than a moment, they leaned back and stretched out on the wide, built-in bed.

It seemed Qui-Gon was intent on taking his time with Obi-Wan, who did not complain. They lay together, trading unhurried kisses that were warm and soft and moist. The lights dimmed but did not go off; Obi-Wan kept his eyes open, attempting to trade his immaterial, tension-laden dreams with the reality of his husband and their love.

Like magic their clothing disappeared; everything seemed to move in slow-motion and be sepia-toned. Obi-Wan tried to shut his mind down and concentrated on touch and sight, tried to fill his senses with nothing but Qui-Gon, succeeding in part, at least. Qui-Gon seemed to believe in nothing at all save Obi-Wan, tasting him, caressing him, touching him in an intimate, knowledgeable way.

Qui-Gon's breath sensitized his skin. Qui-Gon's touch electrified and his tongue left hot, wet trails everywhere -- on Obi-Wan's face, his neck, his nipples, his erection, the inside of his thighs. It felt like every part of him was an erogenous zone, like every touch Qui-Gon made was transmitted directly to the pleasure center of Obi-Wan's brain, bypassing the normal channels. When Qui-Gon pushed inside Obi-Wan, it was as if he filled Obi-Wan completely; every empty space taken, staked, claimed and owned.

For Qui-Gon, the only place that mattered. For Obi-Wan, the best part of himself, given freely. Improved upon.

By the time their climaxes had rolled over them, leaving them both limp and sweaty, Obi-Wan felt as though he had melted into Qui-Gon. He had the fanciful thought that they were no longer two separate bodies, but were, instead, one entity; greater than the sum of their parts. He nestled himself deeper into Qui-Gon's embrace and didn't even notice slipping over into sleep.

The building was filled with dead clones and smoke. Claxons were blaring and emergency lights cast a lurid red glow that mingled with the blood spilled. Behind them was the clatter of feet as the other Jedi hunted prey and set explosive charges.

Thanks to Maul, Fett was as dead as his 'son'. The last time Obi-Wan saw Mace, he was holding his own against Ventress, and Obi-Wan had little doubt who would win that match. He ran down the corridor, followed by his master, hunting for Tyranus. The Force told him the Sith was ahead of him, but not how far, nor if he were planning a trap.

They took down two more clones who looked to be dying anyway. The door they were guarding was ajar, and Obi-Wan's heart picked up -- Tyranus was just ahead, he could feel it.

"I feel it too. Be careful, Obi-Wan. He's very strong."

"So am I." Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder and smiled grimly. "It's almost over now."

"I wouldn't say that, little Jedi. I wouldn't say that at all."

The oily voice came from the doorway, opening to reveal Tyranus; their first glimpse of the madman who had thought to take over the galaxy. He was tall and should have been handsome; his hair was long and silver-white, much like the neat beard which was below a prominent, broken nose. His sallow complexion vanished into the black hole of his clothing. He gestured and the bodies were shoved to one side of the wide corridor, giving them room to fight, obviously. Obi-Wan shivered as he met Tyranus' eyes; they were a malevolent golden and completely devoid of humanity. His Force acuity was everything they had feared it would be, as a man who had been a Jedi, once.

"Together, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan glanced over as Master Dooku moved up to stand at his side. He responded to his master's murmur in the same voice, firmly. "Yes, Master. Together."

"Quaint. Such idle sentiment. I assure you, though, it is superfluous. You will die here."

"I think not, Jinn." Dooku's voice was cold and hard. He glanced again at his padawan, now knight, and smiled, reassuringly. Then, as one unit, they began the dance.

Obi-Wan woke, screaming.

"And you've been having these dreams for how long?"

"Since we got here."

"No, actually, the first was when we were still aboard the Marauder." Obi-Wan's voice was inflectionless and wrenched at Qui-Gon's soul.

"I wish you had told me sooner." Mace looked even more terrible in the dim light of his hab than he had during the day. Everyone else was still asleep; there was still a good hour before dawn.

"Qui-Gon mentioned them to me, Mace. But neither of us felt they were doing any harm, and to be honest, many in this team have been having nightmares." Dotrick lifted her empty hands, palm up, the equivalent of a shrug in her species. "But now... When they woke me and Obi-Wan told me what he'd been dreaming, I realized something else was going on."

"Obviously." Mace looked between the three of them. "In the..." He shook his head hard and yawned, making the others do as well. "You're dreaming, of this mission? With other people involved?"

"Sometimes. Mostly it's been the mission, I pop into various... I don't know what you'd call it, incarnations? Then I wake up." Obi-Wan's voice was still a monotone. Giving in to his desire, Qui-Gon draped an arm over Obi-Wan's shoulder and was happy when his spouse snuggled with him.

"So what are these, precognitions? Gifts from the Force?"

Dotrick snorted at Mace's words. "You humans, you're always anthropomorphizing. The Force can't 'gift' anything. It's not sentient."

"Then what's your explanation?" Mace demanded.

"I don't have one, because I don't have enough data. However..." she held up a hand when Mace opened his mouth to speak. "I do have a theory, or perhaps a better word would be guess." She rubbed her hands together and her scales made a soft noise. "Obi-Wan, you've told me that Naboo was a pivotal event, cascading down through the possibilities you traversed."

Obi-Wan frowned. "Well... yes..."

"You almost always had to deal with Naboo, or some other incarnation of it. Correct?"

"On many occasions, yes."

"I think we can say this incident forming here will also be a pivotal event, much like Naboo."

Qui-Gon had a feeling he knew where she was taking the conversation and didn't like it one bit. He tightened his arm around Obi-Wan.

"If this is so, then we can extrapolate. Were you still 'traveling', you would encounter this mission in various incarnations as well. But you're not traveling. So your brain, as attuned to the Force as it is, taps into it and the result is dreams, subconscious descriptions of those 'ifs' you might have seen, were you still traveling."

Obi-Wan was almost as hard as stone under Qui-Gon's arm. It was all Qui-Gon could do to keep his own trembling in check. "This doesn't... this can't mean he'll be..."

"No, Qui-Gon. I don't believe so. He doesn't have the physical means to do so."

"So what Obi-Wan is experiencing is this mission? As it could be... or as it would be? I mean, will be?" Mace sounded almost as confused and nervous as Qui-Gon felt.

"The fact that he's seeing others in the primary roles points to little hope that what he dreams will come true, not precisely, at any rate. But just as there were massive similarities between every 'if' Naboo, there will undoubtedly be similarities here."

"This is just speculation." Qui-Gon's voice sounded strangled to his own ears. "It could be something else. It could have nothing to do with his... his travels." Under Qui-Gon's arm, Obi-Wan had yet to move.

"True." Dotrick's voice was maddeningly calm and rational. "As I said, this is only a guess on my part. Available data seem to indicate that it is so, however."

The silence in Mace's hab was profound. Qui-Gon wasn't even sure if his heart was beating.

Finally, Obi-Wan spoke, in a voice that almost made Qui-Gon want to weep. "How can I stop it?"

Dotrick gave him a sympathetic look. "I don't know, Obi-Wan. I'm not even certain why this is happening." Obi-Wan looked down at the floor and said nothing. "Have you tried to meditate on it?"

Obi-Wan briefly shook his head, and Qui-Gon spoke for both of them. "It's been a little hectic of late; neither of us have had the time, I think."

"Same here." Mace sighed heavily. "I know I need to..."

"Perhaps some shared meditation would help. I could do a check of your Force sense while you're under, Obi-Wan, to see if there's anything specific wrong."

Obi-Wan nodded, a slight movement of his head. His eyes were still focused on the floor of the hab.

"This is not your fault, Obi-Wan. And I can't see it impeding your eventual complete recovery."

Mace almost spluttered at Dotrick's softly voiced words. "Of course it's not his fault! That's madness. We might even be able to turn it to our advantage... at this point, I'd take anything."

When Qui-Gon caught Mace's eyes, he frowned slightly and shook his head. Mace had no idea of the sort of mental anguish Obi-Wan had been working through, so had no idea how much his words stung.

"I'll be the one to make that decision, Councilor Windu." Dotrick's use of Mace's title carried more authority than her firm voice. "We shall keep you apprised."

Realizing he had probably overstepped his boundaries, Mace grimaced an apology. "Of course, Healer. I apologize. I spoke without thinking."

"It's all right." Qui-Gon couldn't reach Mace to touch him, but he tried to relieve him with words. "When would you like to get started, Dotrick? And do you want me there as well?"

Dotrick examined him carefully, then looked equally deeply into Obi-Wan. "Yes, I think it would be a good idea, at least to get us started. We've got another hour or two before work will start. Is this a good time?"

"As good as any." Obi-Wan still wouldn't lift his head, but he didn't seem as rigid to Qui-Gon.

"Let's go to your hab, then. I want you as comfortable as possible." Dotrick stood, followed by the rest of them.

Mace reached out and grasped Qui-Gon's shoulder, briefly, conveying without words his concern and apology. Qui-Gon nodded once before following his husband and their healer out of the hab. He knew Mace would keep the confidence they felt was needed.

The searing pain of the severed hamstring made Obi-Wan writhe on the floor. Darth Tyranus stood over him, his wickedly-curved 'saber burning a red hole in the air. "And now..." he said, bringing the blade up. Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

"NO!" A sea-green blade came between them, stopping Tyranus' blow with a clash of sparks.

Obi-Wan gasped. "Anakin!"

"Little puppy, you are beneath importance! Do not come between the Sith and his prey!"

"I will, and I'll do more than that!" Anakin called Obi-Wan's 'saber to him and lit it, pushing Tyranus away and jumping between the two of them.

"Anakin, no..." Obi-Wan grimaced in pain and clutched at his thigh.

"Fine. I'll go through the apprentice to get to the master... it's not like either of you are up to my standard anyway. Hopeless, helpless little Light-siders."

This isn't real. The thought came from nowhere, and Obi-Wan frowned, trying to push the pain away so he could help his padawan. Movement made his whole body spasm in agony.

This isn't real. "What?" Obi-Wan managed to roll over and push himself to one side, out of the way of the fight. It isn't real. It's not happening.

"Padawan!" Anakin was still fighting Tyranus, using both 'sabers against him, but he thought that the fight was slowing down? They... they were moving in slow-motion...

This isn't real. Take control.

Suddenly, the pain in his thigh disappeared. Shocked, he looked down and saw the burn mark was gone. Slowly, he rose, unsure what was happening, trying not to...

"Master!" Anakin threw him his 'saber and he re-lit it, moving to stand beside Anakin against Tyranus.

"Together, Anakin." They spared each other one glance before wading into the fight again, this time, certain they would win.

They were ready.

The plans had been made and set, and everyone knew the part they were to play. The next morning, the Jedi would crowd onto the Marauder along with the two AT-PTs and swoop bikes and leave Yavin's jungle steaminess for the cool forests of Endor. The pilots had their orders, and would be waiting for the signal to attack.

Two weeks on Yavin had made everyone tense, but they were ready. They were prepared, as best as they could be, and knew it was enough. It was time to move on.

Before retiring for the night, Dotrick came to Obi-Wan's hab and sat with him and Qui-Gon. "How have the lucid dreaming techniques worked, Obi-Wan?"

He frowned into his bottle of root beer, then opened his mouth to speak, though he didn't. He leaned forward, letting his bottle dangle from his fingertips and focusing on something far away before actually speaking. "I've had mixed success." To Qui-Gon, the success had been blatant -- Obi-Wan hadn't woken screaming since Dotrick had shared meditation with them and delved into the nature of the dreams. That had been a meditation Qui-Gon found incredibly eye-opening. "I've been able to take control of some of the dreams, change their focus, their outcome, but others..."

"We discussed that you would probably not have full success," she said, staring at him intently.

"Yes, I know. And some of the dreams have been... pleasant. Well, they haven't been overtly terrifying, anyway."

"Nothing more with your travels?"

"Not that I could discern."

"That's good, Obi-Wan."

"I suppose."

Qui-Gon had his hand on Obi-Wan's thigh; he squeezed it in commiseration. Obi-Wan gave him a preoccupied half-smile.

"One thing I... well, I should bring up..." Qui-Gon didn't want to say this, was actually afraid of the words, but knew he had to speak. "Mace and I were talking earlier. He knows about Obi-Wan's travels, he knows almost as much as I do." Dotrick and Obi-Wan were looking at him curiously. "He remembered Obi-Wan's description of the Palpatine that Obi-Wan killed, or marooned, whatever. The one who could choose which reality to go to."

Obi-Wan was giving him an intent look, which made Qui-Gon even more reluctant to continue. "He asked me... said he wondered if there was any chance that this Tyranus, that he could be influencing Obi-Wan's dreams. That he knew about the alternate realities, somehow, and was trying to confuse us, to gain an advantage in dealing with him."

Dotrick blinked, then turned and gave Obi-Wan a glance before speaking. "It is a valid speculation. I don't believe it to be correct, though."

"Why?" Obi-Wan's voice was almost a whisper.

"For several reasons. But mainly, we don't even know that my original idea is correct, that you're experiencing this as a sub rosa hyper-dimensional trip. If we can't prove that, how can we prove it might be originating from outside your brain?"

That was a good point, and Qui-Gon murmured words to that effect.

"I also think I would have been able to pick up on any external Force manipulation. For that matter, I think either one of you would have been able to do the same." She nodded. "We don't know why this is happening, Obi-Wan, but I am sure that it will stop when we're past this event. Once this mission is over."

Obi-Wan nodded, as did Qui-Gon. They just had to get through this mission, and everything would be fine, once more. A simple thing, actually. By this time next month, they should be back on Coruscant and enjoying the benefits of some down time. It wasn't like they didn't need it, after all.

Just get through this and everything would be fine.

So why did Qui-Gon have such a powerful feeling of foreboding?

Obi-Wan followed Siri and Bruck forward, chatting about inconsequential things. They were on their way, finally, and Obi-Wan had never looked forward to such a dangerous mission. So many things were going to be decided on Endor. So many things accomplished, so many things ended.

Siri was holding Bruck's hand as they walked; she and Obi-Wan both held brown bottles of root beer. Bruck had a bottle of some sort of ale that he preferred, but nothing they drank had any alcohol. What would be the point? They would be in the Endor system by dawn, ship's time, and beginning their attack. They were ready. They were more than ready.

"...It's not going to do it, I know it won't." Bruck's voice sounded aggrieved and Obi-Wan wrenched his mind back to the conversation.

"Don't be a wet blanket, Chun. It'll work. I have faith." Siri turned her laughing face to Obi-Wan. "What do you think, Kenobi?"

"I'm reserving judgment," Obi-Wan said, trying and failing to hide his grin. "You two need to talk to Maul about it. That man can get more speed from a swoop than even the manufacturer can."

Bruck waved his hand in the air. "Whatever. In two days or so, it'll all be moot anyway."

Siri said something sarcastic but Obi-Wan tuned it out. They were just outside the control room. His eyes landed on a latched, familiar-looking compartment, at just under shoulder height, long but not high. With a frown, he stopped and watched his hand reach out to unfasten the latch. The door pulled down to reveal a space that was quite deep. There were at least a dozen lightsabers tucked into it.

Shock robbed Obi-Wan of words, of breath. It took him a moment to realize Bruck was calling his name. Trying to snap out of it, he glanced at Bruck, then back to the cubby.

"What is it?" Bruck said, his voice sounded puzzled and a bit alarmed.

"Wh... 'sabers? What...?"

"Claum put them there. She's one of those that always expects things to go wrong. You know, what can go wrong, will go wrong? Why?"

"Obi-Wan? What is it?" Siri touched his arm.

Finally realizing he was alarming his friends, Obi-Wan tried to get a grip on himself. "Nothing. I just... nothing. Sorry. It surprised me, that's all." He carefully closed the hatch and latched it. "I think I'm more tired than I thought I was. I'm going to turn in."

"All right." Siri and Bruck traded glances, but all Siri said was, "Good night, then."

After nodding a reply, Obi-Wan walked carefully down the companionway to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon, trying not to think about anything. Not thinking was good. He could do that.

It was definitely better than thinking.

They were coming.

Darth Venge stood at ease in the control room of the Death Star. Part of him was following the beautifully choreographed and rapid movements of the clones still working on the station. It was nearly finished, though he knew it didn't look that way to outside eyes. That suited his purpose, admirably.

They were coming, and they were in for a surprise.

While it would pain him to lose his paid associate and 'father' of his cloned troops, he'd always considered Fett to be disposable. And it wasn't as if he were needed anymore. Once the Jedi were on Endor, they would discover exactly how useful a station of this size could be. Once Endor was gone, he would have the station moved to their backup location so it could be finished at leisure.

One of the clones brought him a progress report on the construction, and he perused it with satisfaction. Yes, everything appeared to be exactly on schedule. He would get his young apprentice up to the station later in the day, so that Darth Vader would be with him when the Jedi arrived, when the Jedi were destroyed. And then they'd take care of the rest of the Jedi, those pathetic Light-siders, along with anyone or anything that got in their way.

The man once known as Obi-Wan Kenobi rubbed his leather-clad hand over his jaw and smiled. They were coming. Pity they wouldn't be going back.

end of this phase
more is forthcoming