.
Archive: Sure! M/A, TBC only for now...but ask me nicely and I'll probably say
yes!
Warnings: RAPE WARNING! If severely violent,
nonconsensual stuff squicks you, stay away from this
story! Or, if you're morbidly curious and just can't
resist a peek, don't blame ME! I warned you!
Warnings for Warnings: See above... ;=)
Disclaimer: Sorry to use your characters in such ways,
George, but I promise their inner souls are untouched
and unsullied by the hideous deeds I will perform in
my la-BOR-a-tory! Ennaway...I don't make a single
daktari off this endeavor. I do it for the love of it,
so don't sue me for my love, George! It would be too
cruel!
Acknowledgements: to my wonderful betas, Fox and
Amber Biles! I must give a great deal of credit to
both of them; they rooted out a whole lot of bad
grammar and inconsistencies! And they've read my work
probably a whole lot more times than they ever wanted
to! ;=)
The man trapped inside the twisting metal closed his
eyes. He drew upon a long
forgotten power--the Force that allowed him to
separate himself from the pain of
the body that lay shattered around him. His
consciousness floated free of the wrecked flesh,
watching the body below as it breathed out its
gasping, certain-to-be last lungfuls of air. Calmly,
he noted the long black hair, matted with ubiquitous
blood, acting as an indicator of the slow uneven
motion of the lungs as it fluttered sickly with each
rattling breath.
The blood fanned out with the twisted body as center
point, creating a grisly artwork in red and gray,
blood and metal. He had become detached from the pain.
He remembered what had been his purpose; he was
carrying the latest technological advances and their
creators from his home planet, where civil unrest had
threatened them and him. The reward would be wealth;
wealth was power--the power to wreak revenge on the
one who had betrayed him.
A weakly rasping hiccup escaped the lips of the body
that lay heavily below. Blood trickled from the corner
of its mouth; he realized the shell of a man was
laughing. He was connected to the husk below; its
thoughts were his own, but they seemed so distant,
unimportant. Even revenge, which was once a brightly
burning goal for him, fell short of worthiness for
consideration in this small world of blood and metal.
The world was shrinking, and there was no place for
grand plans.
He thought about all the clever things he had done in
his life, the rewards to
the ego when he showed others his
accomplishments...then, the revulsion on their
faces when they comprehended the desperation behind
all the damnably brilliant
things he had done...just to hurt one man.
The only one who hurt now was him. He had lost
himself; he was losing the
control that kept the pain at bay. As he popped back
into his shattered skin,
the physical and mental agony overwhelmed him, and he
screamed as loudly as he
could. It came out as a ratcheting sound, as the blood
was displaced from his
lungs. He began to drown in his own body; his mind
drowned in futility. //No one
will find you. No one will miss you. Your death will
be the end of suffering for
those you sought to impress--the only good you will
ever do...//
Tears mixed with blood, and he gasped through the
river of blood, trying in vain
to surface out of the mire of his own dying soul...he
felt for the Force,
remembering an old lesson. "There is no death; there
is the Force." But the
Force drove him deeper within himself.
Red replaced the gray, fading slowly to black,
contrasting with his pale torn
skin, which unshaded as the world shrank further.
The makeshift crew worked under the ice blue sky,
picking the gray bits of metal from the bodies trapped
within. The wreckage was vast--a crash-landed
freighter. It had been successful in missing a large
settlement, but it had lost control in its vain
attempt to maintain altitude.
Instead, it had fallen into the midst of a field of
AgriCorps Jedi, killing one
of them, and injuring several more. The rest now
formed the crew that diligently worked to extract what
life they could from this impossibly ruined ship which
had once flown.
Hundreds of the agrarian Jedi searched for the
occupants' life signatures as they would for a
seedling in a forest, but, as the freighter's
passengers did not seem to be the least bit
Force-sensitive, it was slow going. Mostly digging and
listening and watching. With the turning of the
breeze, these simply dressed Jedi AgriCorps workers
had transformed into efficient rescue workers. Some
tore the hems of their robes to bind the wounds of
those few they could free from the freighter's deadly
metal embrace.
"This is your chance to practice your manual planetary
approach skills,
Padawan."
Qui-Gon sat back in the navigator's chair and regarded
his apprentice, who began
the process of shifting the cruiser to manual control.
This would be one of the
few interesting things Obi-Wan could expect during
this mission. Another trade
negotiation. Another treaty. It paled to the raw
exhilaration of the control of
a ship, Force sailing through him as the ship sailed
through the upper
atmosphere.
Obi-Wan was lost in his task. Qui-Gon noticed a large
freighter pursuing a
similar course to the planet they now approached.
Obi-Wan had noticed it also, and he deliberately set
about correcting their course to avoid the possibility
of collision.
Qui-Gon sat up in the co-pilot's chair and studied the
large gray object on the viewscreen. "What freighter
is that? I thought there was an embargo. Send
to it on a coded channel, Obi-Wan. Ask its cargo and
purpose here."
The two suns of the planet Dynantiun rose over the
horizon, illuminating Qui-
Gon's furrowed brow, casting pools of light into his
deep blue eyes. A disturbance in the Force. Only a
slight one--Obi-Wan didn't even seem to react to it.
He sent the coded query with a graceful sweep of his
left hand, while he guided the transport into a
shallow approach vector with his right.
In fact, Qui-Gon mused that his Padawan looked much
like an initiate at a games
console, oblivious to everything but the yaw, roll and
pitch of the ship in his
hands. "Be mindful of your surroundings, not just the
ship." Qui-Gon quirked his mouth into a wry ghost of a
smile. He did not indulge his padawan overmuch, but he
understood the younger man's state of mind all too
well.
Obi-Wan's eyes cleared, and he sat up, turning toward
his Master. "Yes, Master. I have been paying
attention. I know that the gravity of this planet is
currently being affected by the close approach of its
two suns. Thus, the shallow approach vector." Obi-Wan
cocked his head at Qui-Gon, as if to receive his
congratulations for his vigilance. Instead, Qui-Gon
reached down in front of Obi-Wan to flick a readout
switch that Obi-Wan had forgotten to engage.
Obi-Wan flushed deep red as he met his master's eyes.
"Ah, thank you, Master. The gee-warning, of course. I
am not as mindful as I had thought." He turned back to
the console, quickly giving it a visual once-over, to
make sure he had forgotten nothing else.
It was their fifth straight month of treaty missions.
Most were like stopovers
on a cross-galaxy cruise, short, colorless, tiring.
The Corellian Run--all the
planets who had trade contracts with Corellia were
required to renew them every
five standard years. Each renewal required a
negotiator. Most of the planets
requested Jedi, so one lucky pair of Jedi negotiators
made this trek every five
years. It was not a coveted assignment.
The planet they now approached, Dynantiun, was on the
fringe of the route, between the main spaceway and the
sovereign planet of Naboo. This planet had signed no
treaties. The Corellians were hard-lining them now,
insisting that
they join the trade route or the Corellian goods would
no longer flow to their
planet. The embargo was a boon to rogue traders that
inhabited the fringe areas around Umgul and Naboo.
"We should be passing over the AgriCorps sector of the
planet by now." Qui-Gon
noted, as he adjusted the cruiser's landing sequence
to compensate for the
slightly higher gravity caused by the summer aligned
position of the double suns
in the skies of Dynantiun.
"Master, that freighter has touched down in the
AgriCorps field!" Obi-Wan was
staring down, baffled. "Something's not right here. It
was farther away than we were."
"You're right, Padawan. That's a crop field, not a
landing strip. And that
freighter hasn't just landed, it appears to have
crashed." Qui-Gon disengaged
the landing sequence. "Take it on manual, Obi-Wan.
Land in the clear, about a
half kilometer from the wreckage.
"Mind the gravity difference, Padawan. Slow more than
you think you must. "
Qui-Gon had strapped himself into the navigator's seat
over which he had previously been hovering, and they
descended carefully into one of the vast grain fields
maintained by the Jedi on Dynantiun.
Ki-Yana had torn most of her robe to make tourniquets
for a badly injured young
woman. She began to remove her tunic, when she heard a
small scraping just behind where she had found the
woman. And a Force-signature. She was unfamiliar with
it, but she could follow it.
It led into a blank mass of twisted metal. Ki-Yana
focused her weary green eyes
into the mass, drew a deep breath. It was within the
metal case she saw...she
blinked. Nothing could remain alive in such a small
twisted space. She laid her
thin hands upon the bent bulkhead, calling for help as
she did. She gathered strength in her small body to
uncover what lay below the frozen lake of metal.
Two young men came to the aged woman's aid, creating a
controlled kinesis to
slowly unwrap the metal from the crumpled body beneath
it. A hand appeared;
another bulkhead gave way, and a still figure lay
exposed, black hair matted
with more blood than most of these Jedi had ever seen.
But these Jedi of the AgriCorps were seeing more blood
than the majority of Jedi Knights see in a lifetime.
Ki-Yana stared at the figure, watching and feeling for
signs of life. She accepted the feelings of
overwhelming horror at the close contact with so much
carnage. It washed over her and she continued in her
work, relentless and methodical, in the same manner as
if she were healing a field of sick grain. She caught
the faintest of Force emanations from this being, and
she knew he must be alive.
The young men continued through the wreckage, turning
over tables that had been
wrenched from their strong foundation within the
floors of the freighter. Floors
had become walls; uprooted chairs mixed seamlessly
with the bodies that had
occupied them. The search went on.
Another Jedi waded through the ragged metal carrying
an emergency field medikit.
He knelt down beside the shattered figure and began to
clear away the blood-
dried hair. His dark green eyes fell shut as he
breathed into the still mouth of
the nearly dead man; he heard the rattling of the
blood in the man's lungs,
prepared the drainage tube for insertion into the
man's chest. When the process had been well started,
he leaned back on his heels and unconsciously ran his
hands through his deep red hair, freeing it from the
leather tie that held it out of his face.
Ki-Yana was staring at him. "What is wrong, Khraghar?
He will live. And those
who die are taken into the Force."
"No, Master Ki-Yana, it is not the death, but memory.
I believe I know that man.
He was a Jedi."
Ki-Yana nodded slowly. "That is why I could sense him
so well, even though he
was nearly dead."
"He was an initiate in my class, one year younger than
me. He had hopes of
becoming a Padawan when I left for the Agri-Corps. His
name is Xanatos. He was a
good friend of mine. I haven't seen him in almost
twenty years, but I'd know him
anywhere."
Obi-Wan brought the cruiser around and guided it
carefully down on a disused
secondary road off the large field into which they had
seen the freighter crash.
"Be careful with the landing maneuver. The solar tides
are rather active in this area, according to my
monitor." Qui-Gon concentrated intently, gathering in
the
impressions from the Jedi tending the wounded at the
crash site. He left Obi-Wan
to concentrate on their own landing.
A sharp jolt caused Qui-Gon's eyes to fly open. His
Padawan had dropped the ship
too hard. He heard the straining of the repulsor
field, as it fought to maintain
itself away from the planet which sucked it
mercilessly down.
"Padawan? What was that?" Qui-Gon's head snapped
sharply towards Obi-Wan, who
was holding the manual lever back, trying to maintain
a safe altitude. But it
had been futile. He looked up, his brow furrowed, blue
eyes staring in
disbelief.
Obi-Wan chewed unconsciously at his lower lip, trying
to decide what had actually caused the problem. "It
shouldn't have happened. Master, I think we're in a
local gravity well or something. Didn't the files on
this planet contain any information about this gravity
effect besides 'Gravity is greater when both suns are
at their closest approach to the planet'?" Obi-Wan's
mouth curled up slightly in a wry smile.
Qui-Gon smiled with his eyes, but his tone was firm.
"You must be more mindful
next time, or we will end up like the unfortunates in
that freighter. Gather the
ship's med supplies, while I empty the linen closet."
"Yes, Master." He quickly idled the engine, keeping
the fuel mixed in case the
Jedi should need its services as a transport. Both
Jedi worked quickly and
exited the small cruiser at a run. "The fuel will keep
mixing for two hours; then it will shut down. I've
already set it, Master."
Good Padawan. NOW you're thinking. Qui-Gon sent a
hurried, but sincere admiration for Obi-Wan's
initiative in this extreme situation. Obi-Wan's mouth
quirked slightly upwards as he acknowledged the
unspoken compliment, but his expression fell suddenly
as the awful scene came into view.
The wreckage loomed like a small, burned out city in
the windblown field. A pale teenage boy wearing the
simple brown tunics of AgriCorps' field workers met
them and offered to carry some of Qui-Gon's linens.
"You are welcome fellow Jedi. There are many dead and
injured. We will need your help." He immediately
turned and sprinted back towards the twisted hulk.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan quickened their pace to follow,
noticing only a few rows of
burned grains that told of the quick descent the
freighter must have made.
Harvester speeders floated toward and past them, all
carrying the bloodied
freighter passengers who had some spark of life left
in them.
One of the makeshift ambulances hovered to a stop next
to the two newcomers.
"Are you the two Jedi we had been told were arriving
for the trade negotiations
today?" A middle-aged, windblown man in coarse brown
fiber tunics regarded
them for a split second, before he nodded shortly and
gestured. "Get in. I'm
Henaon. We need all the help here we can get."
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sped towards the mass of metal
carnage...
The night had fallen several hours past, and the
AgriCorps Jedi worked alongside
the two warrior Jedi by the light of repulsor-held
glowglobes. As they
approached the cargo area, Qui-Gon pulled Henaon
aside. "I understood that no
goods would be traded here until our treaty was
ratified. Is this a rogue? Did it contact you at all
before it crashed?"
Henaon blinked the dust and insulation from his eyes.
"The automatic sensors set
up here identified it as a Corellian freighter, but,
from here, it doesn't look
anywhere near Corellian. More like an old model mining
ship. It sent a blanket distress beacon, but not a
direct voice message."
The last of the survivors was gathered into a speeder
at dawn. Qui-Gon and Obi-
Wan lay exhausted next to the survivor, holding him
steady as they made their
way back to the AgriCorps complex. The first sun cast
a deep orange glow on this
last arriving speeder. The dying lay with the living
inside a large harvesting
warehouse which had become a sort of triage; the young
woman Ki-Yana had helped earlier sat propped against a
bale of grain, eyes open, staring dead ahead.
Rows of wounded leaned against the gathered grain in
the front of the makeshift triage structure. They were
eerily mirrored by the neatly arranged rows of the
dead at the back of the warehouse. The survivors sat
or lay moaning softly in pain and horror, awaiting
attention from the farmers recently turned field
nurses. They looked strangely similar to those still,
dead figures at the back of the warehouse who had
managed to escape their suffering and merely stared
straight ahead.
The night began lifting slowly, and it took with it
many lives, many who became the still, staring
reminders of the horror around them. The Jedi lifted
the last limp figure gingerly from the speeder, taking
care to avoid twisting his damaged body. A makeshift
stretcher consisting of a sturdy canvas held by two
young AgriCorps apprentices received the unfortunate
man, who groaned insensibly as he was transferred.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan climbed wearily out after him and
saw him installed on a makeshift pallet near the front
gate of the warehouse. Qui-Gon was concentrating
throughout, sending his own energy to stabilize the
fading life that lay in the midst of the crowded
theatre of suffering. Obi-Wan steadily applied
compresses to stave off the bleeding from the man's
legs, which had been cleanly severed at the knees in
the violent crash. It was a losing battle.
The man regained consciousness long enough to scream
weakly and fix Qui-Gon in a death-stare. The Jedi
Master held the dying man's eyes, and gently eased him
into a heavy sleep, one from which he would not
awaken. After life signs stopped, Obi-Wan and an
AgriCorps Jedi lifted him with the pallet and began
the trudge to the back quadrant once again.
Qui-Gon sat peering into the space where the dead man
had lain for a good five minutes before Obi-Wan
returned from the makeshift morgue. He gently touched
his Master's mind as he approached, weaving a light
presence so as not to startle the obviously exhausted
and traumatized Qui-Gon. He had overextended himself
in Force-healing for many hours now, as had Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon unlocked his eyes and raised his head slowly
to regard his weary Padawan. Obi-Wan was covered in
other people's blood; he looked as if he had come from
a battlefield. Qui-Gon rose from his kneeling position
and steadied himself on his Padawan's shoulder; they
limped over to the next pallet as the light of the
planet's second sun peeked over the horizon.
The walking wounded entered the main dome area, an
enormous greenhouse with an overarching dome that
allowed the nutrient-rich light of Dynantiun's two
suns to filter through in just the right amounts for
the crops held below. The suns were nearly complete in
their circuit of the day when Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan
wearily joined the stream of survivors inside the
dome.
Their temporary quarters were nothing more nor less
than a large storage closet, stacked on one side with
boxes of dried seeds, fertilizer, germinating
equipment, the things one would expect in an AgriCorps
dome. The middle of the closet was dominated by a
thin-mattressed rollaway bed, which was mercifully
suspended above the hard floor.
Qui-Gon briefly contacted the organizers of the Trade
talks and informed them of their situation, giving
only bare details. The Jedi Master was too exhausted
to give a full report, and the man on the other end
seemed to divine the seriousness of the delay from the
tone of Qui-Gon's voice alone. He quickly replaced the
comlink in his belt and nearly collapsed where he sat.
Sleep would be inevitable, it seemed.
The Jedi huddled together on the mattress, their
robes the only covering. They had been so exhausted,
they neglected to remove their tunics. The blood had
dried to a crusty brown over most of Obi-Wan's outer
tunic and pants. Qui-Gon was less stained, but his
sleep was halting and shallow, dominated by
nightmares, which caused him to squirm endlessly and
mutter incoherently.
The result was one Master who was sleeping badly and
one Padawan who could not sleep at all. Untangling
himself from his covering robe, Obi-Wan slid off the
makeshift bed, and pulled his Force-presence into a
ball within him. He did not wish to wake his Master
after what he had been through.
Obi-Wan stalked down the seventh or eighth hallway in
the complex, unable to
sleep, unable to calm his thoughts. The lights had
been dimmed for the planet's
night cycle, and Obi-wan stared at the long dark
shadows his body cast on the
close walls.
He cast his Force-eyes into each room, taking in the
pain of the dying, the horror of the surviving,
sinking deeper into the complex. It bounced off him
with the dull familiarity of the last 24 hours; the
agony of those surrounding him was a constant
companion. It felt normal, although he could feel it
eating into his control by steps. A familiar tickle
played at him as he approached the dark end of the
corridor. He stopped at the last room on the left and
silently stepped over the threshold.
The familiarity was here. He focused on the shadowed
face, mindlessly
cataloguing the features--long black hair, pale skin,
dried blood...scar on the
face. The frisson hit his nerves and he straightened.
That was Xanatos. No
doubt. It had only been five years since he had been
tortured by that twisted
creature.
Now he lay on the edge of death, helpless. A powerful
wash of sensation came
over Obi-Wan as he considered the position he now
held. He could snap Xanatos'
neck like a sugar stick, and it would be one less evil
in the universe. It
would be for the good of those he will destroy in the
future. Not for
revenge...for the good of these people he has
doomed...
Obi-Wan had moved to the head of the lightly cushioned
table which held the ravaged, shallowly breathing form
of Xanatos. His breath deepened, his entire body
trembled with his purpose. He took Xanatos' head in
his hands, bit his lip as he began to sink forward. It
would only take a quick snap...he froze suddenly as
Xanatos' eyes snapped open, fixing Obi-Wan in an
engulfing stare.
Obi-Wan felt the force of ten men on him, as he was
slammed against the close
wall, held fast by the iron hands of Qui-Gon Jinn.
Obi-Wan was pinned by the
neck, wedged against the wall with the entire bulk of
Qui-Gon's larger form.
Qui-Gon cast a quick glance to his former Padawan,
assessing the situation.
Xanatos lay still, eyes closed, breathing shallow but
regular. The master then swung Obi-Wan roughly across
the room and out into the corridor. The older Jedi's
expression was carefully impassive, but he faced his
Padawan down firmly.
Obi-Wan melted immediately. Purpose was replaced with
confusion. He could only
stand silently, mouth hanging open, eyes widened
incredulously, and wait for his
Master's sentence.
"Obi-Wan, you are a Jedi. Do you know what that means?
Can you not recognize Darkness within yourself? You
will return immediately to our temporary
quarters and meditate on what you have done. And you
must sleep. We will talk about this later."
Obi-Wan could say or do nothing. He couldn't meet his
Master's eyes, as he took
several shaky steps around Qui-Gon and returned up the
corridor.
Qui-Gon stared after his Padawan, who was tracing an
erratic pattern away from
him. What came over him? That is not the way he acts.
And why is Xanatos here?
The universe wasn't big enough for Qui-Gon and
Xanatos, yet Qui-Gon refused to
simply erase him, evil as he may have been.
He turned wearily on his heels, scanning Xanatos' room
one last time as he did. The young man lay still on
the table, as damaged as many he had seen and treated
in the dome. A tight bandage was wrapped about his
bare chest, from which a tube protruded, and a gash on
his neck that had narrowly missed the carotid artery
stitched hastily, a gaping wound on his left
leg...Qui-Gon closed his eyes and turned away from the
dark room, heading for the greenhouse dome's main
guard office.
As he neared the main dome area of the greenhouse, he
opened himself to his padawan's Force-presence. He
found it easily, although the confusion he had
detected earlier was still strongly present. Obi-Wan
was meditating, albeit not very successfully. Qui-Gon
turned back to his path.
The main office was little more than a series of
alcoves, lit with old-style enzyme lamps set at
one-third strength for the night cycle, so as not to
disturb the plants growing in the main dome. A small
pale woman met him at the door. She reached Qui-Gon's
waist and had to twist her slim neck sharply upwards
to address the towering Jedi Master.
"I am Thyrae, the night manager of the AgriCorps dome
operation. I have heard of
your arrival. You are a Jedi Knight?" Thyrae's pale
blue eyes regarded him
completely, focused on every detail, flitting over him
as if she were gathering
data for a computer modeling program.
"I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. I am here with my
padawan. We were sent to
oversee the signing of a trade treaty between
Dynantiun and the Corellian
government. It was unfortunate that we meet under
these circumstances however.
Do you know anything of the freighter that crashed.
Was it a trading ship, and
was it authorized to be here?"
Thyrae gathered herself and told Qui-Gon what she
knew. "Apparently, the bulk of
the passengers are from a planet near here that
already trades with the
Corellians--Telos. They were scientists and engineers
mostly. They told me of a
mass civil unrest on Telos that had displaced the
elite there--which consists
mainly of the industrial and technological research
and development companies.
"They told me they were evacuated on this freighter so
that they could escape
the mobs that would surely kill them on Telos. Some
brought as much of their
scientific equipment and experiments with them as they
could, in order to set
themselves up off-planet."
Telos. Qui-Gon remembered the planet. The pieces were
falling together slowly.
He wondered if Xanatos had engineered this mass exodus
of the Telosian elite in
order to rebuild his empire somewhere else. But why
Dynantiun?
"How did they identify themselves as they approached
here?" Qui-Gon inquired.
Thyrae looked thoughtful. "They didn't really. They
called our comm station with
a beacon distress signal moments before they crashed.
I don't even know if they meant to come here."
An accident of the Force had brought him to face
Xanatos for a second time since their severing of the
Master-Padawan relationship. This time Qui-Gon thought
he held the advantage. Xanatos' world had fallen
apart.
Qui-Gon thanked the diminutive young woman and set out
around the dome, slowly
scanning the crowd of survivors, some sleeping, some
softly shifting as they
were attended to by the Jedi who made this complex
their home. One middle-aged
man sat upright against the curving outer wall,
staring into the shadowed
expanse of the dome.
The man caught sight of the Jedi Master and spoke. "
Master Jedi, may I ask you a favor?" Qui-Gon
approached him slowly, knelt to meet his eyes. Qui-Gon
mused that he must stand out in some way to be so
easily identified by a civilian who happened to be
surrounded by Jedi.
The man's face was lined with many years of living and
also with a long scar, which was the mark of a life
turned upside down. A thick swath of dark stained
cloth wrapped tightly around his midsection. Qui-Gon
could feel the shock
dwelling deeply within this man.
Qui-Gon approached him, radiating calm as best he
could. Qui-Gon sent a tendril of Force to calm the
man's haunted mind. The man's eyes lost their glaze
and he tilted his head to look at the Jedi Master.
Qui-Gon greeted him in soft tones and awaited the
man's response.
"Can you help me find my daughter? I haven't seen her
since we crashed. " His eyes burned as he brought his
frustration to the forefront.
Qui-Gon asked for her description, and assured the man
he would look for her as he tended the injured.
The man's eyes filled with tears, and he continued,
his voice shaking. "I am well respected on my home
planet of Telos. But now, I have nothing, no power; I
can't even protect my own family.
" I am fleeing for my life to escape the cancer that
has invaded my planet. I fled with the son of Crion
Latrodectus, who promised to save not only our skins
but our creations from the tide of commoners who rose
against us. Then the army rose against him. We are all
lost now."
The man's eyes fell back into a haunted stare as he
leaned back with a groan. Qui-Gon could feel the
emptiness in his soul through his rapport with the
Living Force. He held the strands of this man's
anguish, wrapped calm around them, and eased him into
a thankful rest.
Qui-Gon had seen several young women die here this
day, and he hoped silently that the man's daughter was
not among them.
Qui-Gon stood and shook the feeling from him, released
it into the Force, and turned back towards his
temporary quarters and the problem of Obi-Wan. He
found himself unconsciously performing the deliberate
calming breath techniques that are taught to initiates
who are just beginning to grasp the Force's power. He
was uneasy enough that he had to revert to basics to
regain even a semblance of being centered.
Qui-Gon pulled back the heavy drapes that obscured the
large storage closet in
which their temporary quarters had been placed. A
large rollaway bed sat empty
in the darkened alcove. Boxes surrounded it; no sign
of Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon lost his center for an instant. His weariness
caused him to become slightly disoriented. He ran to
the end of the corridor until he reached the door to
the outside. He forced himself to calm, to
concentrate, to focus on his padawan's presence. It
didn't take long.
Outside, in the midst of the grain field, sat Obi-Wan,
illuminated by the dim
light of Dynantiun's single moon, kneeling below the
grain level, face turned
to the dimly glowing satellite. His eyes were closed
and his mouth was open,
deliberately taking deep measured breaths. Each slow
heave lifted his chest,
sent waves of dark feelings into the air. Qui-Gon felt
his padawan's distress
clearly, although he was sure Obi-Wan had been here
for hours, shedding emotion
into the Force. His Force signature was embedded
here, as if he had staked out
the area and drawn an invisible circle around it,
marking it as Obi-Wan's.
A deep glow emanated from Obi-Wan, his usual deep
blue, but now shaded with the
darkest red, the glow of embers just before dawn.
Obi-Wan was clearly deeply
upset. He moved suddenly, having sensed the questing
of Qui-Gon's Force-
presence.
In less than a second, Obi-Wan was standing, facing
away from his master, still
breathing deeply and deliberately. He turned around
slowly and faced Qui-Gon.
His darkened blue eyes held a haunted look that eerily
matched that of the
survivor he had interviewed earlier that evening.
"Padawan, do you know why I stopped you?" Qui-Gon
eased his voice into what Obi-
Wan knew as his "gentle-but-firm lesson" tone. Dark,
intent eyes bore down on
Obi-Wan as he gathered himself to speak.
"Master, I felt the prompting of the Force. In that
moment, I knew I was saving
millions of lives by destroying this one evil. I felt
it was right." Obi-Wan's
jaw set, and he regarded his Master more evenly. "When
you stopped me, I doubted
what I had seen and felt. I am lost now, Master. I
can't believe what I almost did."
Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, which were filling with
burning tears.
"Padawan, I sensed in you a rage, and I had to stop
you before you committed
murder. Certainly Xanatos is guilty of murder and
other unspeakable crimes, but
it is also possible to make him pay restitution and to
become an example to
others. If you had killed Xanatos, it would become the
doorway to the Dark for
you. "
Obi-Wan struggled to raise his head, to meet his
master's eyes, but he could not. His eyes focused
within, searching for the calm peace that had once
been at his fingertips and now eluded him. Confusion
swirled about him palpably.
"How many criminals are there in the galaxy? Millions,
uncountable millions. Can
you kill them all, Obi-Wan? Could you decide who lives
and who dies? Could you
take that path? Could you handle the responsibility of
being the last word of
justice in the galaxy?"
Qui-Gon kept his voice even as he studied his Padawan
intently. Obi-Wan slumped
and his head dropped still further. Hot tears flowed
down his face; his teeth
clenched and he no longer controlled his breathing. He
fell limply against Qui-
Gon's chest and chanted brokenly
"No...nooooo...nooo..." Qui-Gon held his
padawan, wrapping his long arms around Obi-Wan's
shaking body, anchoring the
distraught boy with his strength while he faced the
demons within him.
"Now, it's time you returned to quarters and got some
sleep, Padawan." Qui-Gon
gently held Obi-Wan's shoulders and guided him back
into the complex.
"Yes, Master. Your wisdom, as always, is infinite." A
tentative smile curled the
corner of Obi-Wan's lips. "I will see you there soon."
"Yes, Padawan. I just have to talk with a few more
people; then I will be
along." Qui-Gon regarded his padawan as he dreamily
padded back into the
building. Then he turned into the moonlight.
Obi-Wan walked wearily through the long corridor,
emerging into the main dome
area, where he was assaulted by the massive emotions
of the wounded who
inhabited cots along the floor. He tried to block out
the strong sensations, but
he was worn down, and they merely beat at him, causing
him to become somewhat
disoriented.
He speeded up his pace, making it to another corridor,
where he remembered their
closet quarters would be. Obi-Wan's face had become
pale and drawn with fatigue.
Almost there...
Suddenly there was a still, dark figure blocking his
way. It limped severely and
its breath came in painful sounding rasps. Obi-Wan
shook the fatigue from him
and rushed to help the injured man, who slumped
against him. Obi-Wan held the
frail man gently, and pulled back the concealing hood
to find he was holding
Xanatos.
His eyes widened, and he wanted to let him go and run
away quickly, anywhere.
But Xanatos was supporting himself on Obi-Wan, and he
couldn't, in good
conscience, let him fall.
Xanatos' pained voice forced out horrifying words.
"Kill me, Obi-Wan. You wanted
to do it before. Do it now. You have all the reasons
you will ever need." Obi-Wan stared into Xanatos'
white face, felt the sincerity in his voice. He wanted
to die. Or he wanted to make Obi-Wan betray his
training, his Jedi purpose, which seemed more likely
to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan reflexively let go of Xanatos and backed up,
his jaw clenched, fighting
back the warring feelings within him. To his surprise,
Xanatos did not fall in a
heap to the floor, but supported himself with a small
wooden stick, holding his
ground, looking straight into Obi-Wan's eyes. "Should
I try to kill you again, good Padawan? Would you then
have the excuse you need to snap my neck as you so
wanted to?"
Obi-Wan straightened against the wall and drew in a
deep, mind-clearing breath. "I could overpower you
easily, Xanatos. And this time I will deliver you to
my Master and the authorities. It would gain you
nothing." Obi-Wan was forcing himself to breathe
evenly, deliberately calming himself. He SO wanted to
snap the villain's neck and be done with him forever,
but the thought horrified him now.
Xanatos merely stood his ground and closed his eyes
slowly. Then I'll have to
subdue you by other means, Padawan. He added a tiny
emphasis on the word
"Padawan", making it sound like a mocking title. He
stood with his eyes closed,
gathering Force around him.
Obi-Wan stared at him, confused by his stillness. Then
Obi-Wan felt hands on
him, all over, incorporeal but strong as the elemental
forces themselves. One
stroked his groin and gently teased him to arousal.
Obi-Wan fell back against
the wall, breathing quickened, and stared
unbelievingly into the focused eyes of Xanatos. He
hadn't been prepared for this. He was so tired and it
felt so good. If only it weren't coming from this
monster before him. If only it were Qui-Gon...
The invisible hand grabbed him more firmly now,
stroking inexorably, causing the
sweat to fall from Obi-Wan, his breaths to shorten and
become ragged. When the
next invisible tendril slithered around him and opened
him from behind, he lost
his control. He slumped against the wall, trying
desperately to open, to grasp the Force-hands which
held him.
Xanatos declined his thin face to the panting padawan,
and allowed
himself a small smile. " This is an old trick my
Master taught me, but I've found a new and exciting
use for it. You'd never catch Qui-Gon doing this--no,
he was much too dignified and reserved. Feels good,
does it, Padawan?" Xanatos' face was set in utter
strength of concentration, but his voice had that
sneering undertone that Obi-Wan remembered from five
years before.
Obi-Wan pulled himself up from his crumpled position,
fighting the
building sensation within him. "You are a criminal.
You deserve to die...but someone else will do it." he
managed to whisper huskily. The slight tingling became
a roaring electrical surge, he felt himself falling as
waves of unexpected orgasm hit him, one after the
next.
"Why not you, Padawan? Why leave it for another?"
Xanatos had removed the hood and kept his eyes on
Obi-Wan, following him down the wall, drinking in the
Force that radiated from him.
Obi-Wan's body had been starving for this, and it had
betrayed him. The wetness spread on the front of his
pants, warming him, throwing him further into the
abyss of pleasure. His head fell back; his mouth fell
open to gasp in more air. The sweat poured off him as
his body shook with exhaustion and utter surrender.
Obi-Wan's eyes had been shut tight. As he opened them,
he remembered where he
was, saw the dreadful figure of Xanatos standing in
front of him, his breath labored, slowly falling to
the ground. He sprang up faster than he could handle,
grabbing Xanatos before he could hit the floor.
Obi-Wan's head swam, and he fell back with his burden,
impacting the wall, trying to catch his breath.
Slowly, he adjusted Xanatos' weight against him and
staggered back towards the quarters Obi-Wan shared
with his Master. Xanatos gasped quietly, "Was it good
for you, PADAWAN?" A bare breathy whisper, and he was
still managing to sneer at him. His head fell back
onto Obi-Wan's shoulder, and his eyes lost their
focus.
"I'm not your Padawan. You'll never be worthy of a
Padawan..." Obi-Wan softly intoned under his breath,
as he supported the wraithlike Xanatos. His jaw set as
he approached the dark closet, and he felt Xanatos
slide into unconsciousness against him.
Obi-Wan used a tickle of Force to pull the heavy
drapes aside. They fell open rather more violently
than he would have liked, but he managed to enter and
deposit his frail burden on the bed. He knelt on the
floor, feeling the other man's Force-presence fade as
he opened to the Force within him. Obi-Wan's breaths
slowed and he cooled, the sweat drying on him, the
Force flowing around him. He fell into an uneasy rest
meditation, to compensate for the long hours without
proper sleep.
That was how Qui-Gon found him a short time later.
Obi-Wan was so exhausted that the rest meditation had
become sleep, and he had slumped forward onto his
legs. Qui-Gon found him, curled into a little ball,
asleep in a fitful way, mumbling at a dream-presence.
"Padawan?" Qui-Gon's low tones penetrated the haze,
and struck Obi-Wan into instant wakefulness. Obi-Wan's
watering blue eyes snapped open, and he pulled himself
upright to face his master.
It was Obi-Wan who spoke first. "Master, you might
wonder why Xanatos is in our bed. I found him outside
our quarters. He collapsed, and I brought him here."
Obi-Wan held his master's eyes, practically staring at
him.
"And then you collapsed, am I right, Padawan?"
Qui-Gon's deep blue eyes managed to twinkle through
the massive exhaustion that pounded at him. "I think
we need to find a better resting place for Xanatos
than this. "
Qui-Gon activated his comlink. As it beeped its
calling signal, a calm voice registered on the other
end. " Ki-Yana here."
"This is Qui-Gon Jinn, one of the two who have come to
mediate the trade negotiations on this planet. I have
need of assistance. "
Ki-Yana arrived shortly, with two assistants, Orthyn
and Khraghar, who wheeled in a long platform into
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's temporary quarters.
"Thank you for coming so quickly. I'm Qui-Gon Jinn,
and this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi." Qui-Gon
inclined his head toward the young man who slumped
unceremoniously against the far wall. Obi-Wan barely
acknowledged them, nodding his head slightly.
Khraghar adjusted the height of the platform and
looked down at the unconscious form that sprawled
limply on the small bed. His eyes widened as he
recognized his old friend again.
"How did he get over here? He was very badly wounded.
I thought for a while he would never regain
consciousness. " Khraghar cast a look of concern and
puzzlement at the prone Xanatos and threw questioning
looks at the two Jedi who had called them here.
"My padawan found him wandering the halls near here.
Apparently he is not so incapacitated as you might
have thought." Qui-Gon allowed the men to transfer
Xanatos to the wheeled cart and drew Ki-Yana aside.
He regarded Ki-Yana seriously, "This man you have
saved here is very dangerous. He has been involved in
criminal activities which include conspiracy to murder
hundreds of miners on another planet. I suggest you
take every precaution to ensure that he does not
wander these halls again."
Khraghar stopped and straightened after he and Orthyn
completed the transfer. He met Qui-Gon's eyes sharply.
"You must be joking, Master Jinn. Xanatos? A murderer?
I can't believe that."
"How do you know Xanatos?" Qui-Gon's face flushed
almost imperceptibly; he fought against the insistent
inner pressure of impatience. "And how long has it
been since you have seen him or talked to him?"
Khraghar backed up in the face of the insistent Jedi
master, who seemed to have grown several inches in the
past few minutes. He spoke uncertainly to Qui-Gon, who
loomed over him with questioning eyes. " We were
initiates together. I knew him from the time we were
toddlers. I came out here with the Agri-Corps when I
was 13; I admit I've been rather isolated. I haven't
seen Xanatos since then, but we were very good friends
in the Temple. He had more ambition than me. He wanted
to be a Jedi Knight and save the world. I just wanted
to grow the galaxy's finest Gumpowder flower."
Khraghar smiled uneasily, attempting to break the
tension that was apparent in Qui-Gon's demeanor. He
regained his balance and met Qui-Gon's burning eyes.
"What happened to him? What could make him do things
like that?"
Qui-Gon turned from him quickly, eyes darting around
the room until he rested them on his padawan, who was
helping Orthyn affix some makeshift straps to Xanatos'
mobile platform. Keeping his focus sharply on
Obi-Wan's intently moving form, he replied, "He made
some bad choices."
Khraghar lowered his eyes and sought out the comfort
of Ki-Yana's soft gaze. She addressed Qui-Gon in her
little voice, no bigger than her little body. "He was
a Jedi then, but is no longer? I felt his presence in
the wreckage through the Force. That is how we found
him." Her glistening green eyes focused on Qui-Gon.
"We will keep him in the Zero Room. It is shielded
within from Force-kinesis and other similar
Force-manifestations. He shouldn't be able to employ
any of his Jedi-learned techniques of telekinesis or
suggestion there. I can't offer any better than that."
She turned back to Orthyn and Obi-Wan. "Let's get him
into 16A, Khraghar, Orthyn." She turned away smoothly
and pulled the heavy drapes aside to allow the two men
to wheel Xanatos away. "Goodnight, fellow Jedi. May
the Force be with you."
Qui-Gon swept the drapes open and watched the three
figures recede with his former padawan. After a frozen
moment, he pulled himself back into the cramped
quarters and sat down hard on the bed. Obi-Wan had
returned to his position slumped against the back
wall, head lolling slightly, as he regarded Qui-Gon
with a dull gaze.
Qui-Gon sighed and pulled his boots off wearily. He
didn't bother to remove any clothing before he lay
heavily on the small bed, his eyes shutting
reflexively. It appeared as if he had fallen
immediately asleep.
"You will pass a very uncomfortable night if you stay
there, Padawan. I suggest you lie down while you can.
I don't see this trip getting any easier."
Obi-Wan peeled himself off the wall and fell onto the
bed beside Qui-Gon, sleep overtaking him almost as he
hit the bed.
The next day brought the realities of crash survival
to bear on everyone. Agri-Corps Jedi rustled around
the dome carrying large quantities of liquids and
bandages, tending to those who had survived the night.
In places, groups of two or three men gathered stiff
forms onto myriad wheeled platforms and disappeared
down one of the halls that came off the main dome
area. That particular hall had a flickering light at
the entrance and was dubbed the "Hall of the Dead" by
some of the field workers who had been pressed into
removal service.
Down that hall was also Room 16A, the Zero Room, as
the researchers of the AgriCorps called it, a room
specially designed to be a null field room, where none
of the stray influences of the outer world could
penetrate. Here, experiments were done with plants in
which they were selectively exposed to one force at a
time and growth characteristics plotted. It was a
small room and a small project, which had been lately
discontinued.
The room was empty, save for one locked rolling
platform and its one occupant, who was slowly coming
awake. Xanatos squinted at the filtering light, and
immediately he felt the hammer of pain descend upon
him once again. His head spun, and he panted quickly,
trying to slow his breath and release the pain into
the Force.
Footsteps. He couldn't sense anything through the
intense pain. "Do you know why you are here?" a thin
high voice began. Xanatos groaned in pain and
confusion. He couldn't turn his head to see who had
addressed him.
"I have checked up on you, and it seems you are a
wanted man, young Xanatos. I know you were a Jedi
training towards knighthood at one time, but I see you
have fallen far."
Xanatos could think of nothing to say, except "Who are
you? " The words echoed in his aching head and he
cried out in agony as he said them. Tears fogged his
eyes. He couldn't release his pain into the Force. He
couldn't feel the Force at all..."Help me...I'm going
to be sick."
"I am Ki-Yana. That's all you need to know." She
loosened the restraints slightly and turned him on his
side. Waves of nausea hit him one after the other, and
he retched and vomited into a conveniently placed
bucket at the side of his platform. He heaved until he
was exhausted, and lay back gasping for breath,
miserable.
"This room sometimes has that effect on
Force-sensitives. It will pass as you become
accustomed to it. This is a null room. I have enabled
gravity to keep you from floating about the room, but
you will not be able to utilize the Force in any way
as long as you are in here. It is a precaution we must
take. You will have breakfast soon. Good day."
Ki-Yana turned on her heel and departed as two young
men entered with a tray of fruit and bread, borne on
the seat of a wheelchair. The men removed the tray and
placed it aside; then they released Xanatos' bonds and
firmly guided him to the chair, where restraints were
placed upon his legs.
Xanatos laughed at the sight he made. Handled like a
dangerous criminal---he, who only wanted justice and
his fair share. His laughter turned bitter, as he
watched the men leave him.
Xanatos worked to dissipate the unpleasant floating sensations of the zero room
into the Force, using an old lesson, one he had learned as an initiate, long
before the disaster of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He closed his eyes on the spinning
room and forced himself to breathe deeply, though it amplified the nausea he
felt rising. He focused on his purpose, and those who followed him in it. he
traveled to the corner of his mind that held the core of his being.
He examined every crevice and alcove in that corner, absorbing his purpose again,
disregarding his temporarily enforced stasis. This was Xanatos' headquarters,
his final refuge, the force that drove him on. He expected to find his father
represented there, as he was the banner which he carried in front of him to
lead the great number of the Telosian elite that had entrusted their safety
and creations to his leadership.
What he saw was nothing of the sort. A ghostly robed figure stood, shaking his
head slowly and sadly. His former master, Qui-Gon Jinn reproached him, even
in his most private retreat. Xanatos shook his head violently at the vision,
and that brought a wave of uncontrollable nausea with it. He gasped and leaned
as far as his restraints would allow, losing the breakfast he had been fighting
to keep down all morning.
The door came open behind him, and a single figure approached. "If you center
yourself in the Force, you will get over the effects more quickly, Xan."
The words tugged at him with their strange familiarity. The voice was one he
knew, but he could not place it. The Jedi, however decided to be helpful. "I
am Khraghar. Do you remember me? From the Temple, many years ago. "
Xanatos whipped his head up to meet Khraghar's sharp green eyes, and a slow
relaxation came over him. He breathed out the name, "Khraghar Tyannus. Krag.
Of course. I never thought I'd see you again after they shipped you off to the
AgriCorps. You are looking good, my brother. I can't say the same for myself."
Khraghar winced at Xanatos' use of the familiar endearment they had shared so
long ago. But he couldn't deny his tie and friendship with the closest companion
he had had in his youth. The Temple could be hard and unforgiving, and his bond
with Xanatos had eased the encroaching loneliness of the impersonal vastness
of the Temple. He was a kindred soul who contrasted sharply with the unapproachable
Masters who sat in judgment over the young initiates as they strove to prove
themselves worthy of the Jedi Order.
Xanatos had been his brother in mischief, in the adventures outside the Temple
walls. Khraghar would never have had the courage to try new things without the
driving impetus of his fiery friend Xanatos. He had also introduced him to the
love of his young life, Kaluga.
Khraghar had lost contact with her long ago, but he still thought of her fondly,
wondered what life would have been like if he had run away from the vast edifice
of the Jedi and taken his Kaluga with him. They used to weave fantasies about
living together as wanderers in the transparisteel jungle of Coruscant, performing
services, doing odd jobs, never staying in one place.
Kaluga was utterly devoted to becoming a Jedi Knight, like Xanatos, and she
left Khraghar too early, chosen as Padawan at the age of 11. Their last night
together was tentative; Khraghar had wanted to profess his love for her, to
beg her to run away with him. She had not seemed to notice his intense sadness;
she spent the whole evening recounting her trial for Padawanhood under Master
Val-Kyr. There were tears in both their sets of eyes, but the sentiments were
galaxies apart.
She left the next day, and they kept a datalink correspondence, but he had lost
touch with her when he had come to Dynantiun. The rushing memories diluted his
doubt about his old comrade who now lay in front of him. His eyes lit with the
fire of sweet nostalgia.
"Xanatos, where have you been? What has happened to you?" He started slowly,
tentatively meeting Xanatos' ice-blue eyes, the mischievous eyes he remembered
from youth, damped with pain and other seasonings he couldn't identify. "I missed
you all these years."
Xanatos gulped a deep breath, his eyes filled with tears he had not tasted for
many years. "Khraghar, it has been a hard life. I have been betrayed over and
over again. I miss our time. You, me and Kaluga; it was so perfect then." He
couldn't continue; the tears flowed down the sides of his face, an involuntary
wail escaped him. He shook with the regret of 20 years at the sight of this
ingenuous old friend of his.
Khraghar still believed in him, although Xanatos had done thoughtless and terrible
things to him as an initiate. Khraghar was so desperate for a friend, and Xanatos
had used this to advantage. It tore him apart now, seeing that perfect trust
echoing into the present through this man who had managed to remain so innocent
through years of being Jedi. But he had not been through the experience of Qui-Gon
Jinn, the years of trust built and betrayed in one sweep of a lightsaber through
his father's heart.
Khraghar waited by Xanatos' side, mindlessly stroking the matted dark hair,
calming him as he would a stressed seedling. He felt stabs of unknowable pain
and regret as he watched his old friend in so much agony. Slowly, Xanatos relaxed
and reopened his reddened eyes, allowing them to focus softly on Khraghar standing
over him.
"Have you seen or talked to Kaluga, Xan? Do you ever hear from her or Master
Val-Kyr?" Khraghar was falling away from the present, reliving only the old
events made pleasant by their age and the coloring of memory.
Xanatos' eyes abruptly cleared and his expression changed, becoming ice. Then,
as quickly as it had appeared, the expression faded into an approximation of
his former "pleasant reminiscence" face.
"I have heard from her quite recently. She is a Knight, and she has returned
to Coruscant to take a Padawan, finally. Her own Master, Val-Kyr, was killed
in an explosion only last year. It was hard for Kaluga, so she returned to Coruscant
to clear her mind and focus on the future by seeking a Padawan. I fear she is
too greatly saddened by the loss of her old Master, though."
Khraghar sank into melancholy. His world shrank to the words of Xanatos and
the images the words created of his old love. "I should like to see her again.
Do you think I could cheer her up? You and me, my brother? it can't be easy
for her. " He shifted almost impatiently in anticipation of Xanatos' words.
Khraghar was never adept at hiding his feelings, but he had never professed
his love for Kaluga. He had been afraid to burden her with the knowledge in
the face of her excitement about her new life as a Jedi Padawan. Now, twenty
years later, he found himself still regretting it. If she had known, she had
never said anything.
Khraghar's head was reeling. He felt ten years old again. He felt the Living
Force speaking to him. It had brought Xanatos back to him. Now, perhaps it would
bring him to Kaluga. He smiled down at his old friend and gently smoothed the
ex-Jedi's sweat-soaked black hair. "It is good to see you again, Xanatos. I
have to go, but I will return. I am sorry I am not allowed to remove the restraints,
but I'm under orders." Khraghar shrugged and bid good night to the still-firmly
tied Xanatos.
More quickly than Khraghar had dreamed possible, Xanatos caught a fold of his
tunic and pulled him in close. Khraghar was drawn down to meet Xanatos' haunted
blue eyes, face to face. Xanatos' voice was harsh and pleading. "You've got
to help me, Krag! That Jedi Master is trying to destroy me! He is bitter and
will stop at nothing to see me destroyed...please, I need strength. I can't
heal in this horrid null room. Please, just move me somewhere so I can heal
myself. Please!"
Xanatos' breathed in harsh gasps, the desperation plain in his voice. His eyes
engulfed Khraghar's warm face. No Force-suggestion would work in this room.
Xanatos was begging an old friend for help. Khraghar disentangled himself slowly
but firmly from Xanatos' entwining fingers. His dark red hair fell over his
face, covering the ambivalence in his eyes as he stepped away from his old friend.
Khraghar pictured Xanatos in better days, the young, fiery initiate who lived
for the day he would become a Knight. The wraith on the table, pleading pitifully
for a healing place tore at him, and he remembered the Jedi Master and his warnings,"
Who is this Master? What did he do?"
Xanatos raised his head as much as he could against the restraints. "He was
my Master. And he killed my father in front of me." Burning tears welled in
Xanatos' sunken eyes, and he set his teeth, ground his jaw against the memory.
His voice shook slightly and he sank down again, angrily sobbing in the hollow
room.
Khraghar's soft green eyes filled with tears of sympathy and he approached his
friend, standing by the side of the rolling table to which he was bound. His
voice was no higher than a whisper. "I'm sorry, Xan. I'm sorry you have had
to endure such a thing. "
A long pause, and Khraghar's jaw set in determination. He fixed Xanatos with
a long look and whispered, "I'll help you. I can take you to the room next door.
It is not field-nullified like this one. I can't stay with you, but at least
you will be able to heal more fully there."
The two slowly wheeled in shadow, out of the zero room and down the shadowed
hall...Khraghar opened the small room next door and deposited the table and
Xanatos safely in the hidden chamber. He then turned towards the corridor where
his own lonely quarters lay.
Qui-Gon returned to their closet quarters bearing fruit and bread on a small
tray. When he opened the drapes, he found Obi-Wan already immersed in meditation.
He placed the tray on the bed and curled his legs towards him, and watched his
Padawan breathe. It was a pleasure he did not often allow himself, but he could
not resist the temptation laid out before him. As long as it remained untouched.
The young Jedi sat with his legs folded underneath him, back straight, chin
tucked in a traditional meditational stance. His arms fell into his lap, right
hand over left, cupped and open. Obi-Wan was attempting to center himself, using
the rock Qui-Gon had given him five years ago for a focus point. The smooth
rock floated in front of Obi-Wan, wobbling slightly, mirroring the unease within
the Padawan.
He sensed that Obi-Wan was not gaining peace from his meditation however, and
he leaned over and touched his Padawan's shoulder lightly. The rock dropped
heavily into Obi-Wan's cupped hands.
Obi-Wan slowly raised his head and focused on his Master. "Master? Did you ever
teach Xanatos unorthodox uses of the Force?" Obi-Wan blurted out without preamble.
His eyes bore into Qui-Gon's and his brow furrowed intently.
"What sort of uses are you talking about, Padawan?" Qui-Gon was certain there
had been some sort of exchange between Obi-Wan and Xanatos last night, and now
his Padawan would bring it directly to him.
"He used a delicate manipulation of energy on me last night. I was totally unprepared
for it. I think I could have easily handled it if he had just attacked me with
a lightsaber, but this was so...unnerving. " Obi-Wan swallowed hard, and lowered
his eyes involuntarily. His skin flushed deep red, and he let out the breath
he had been holding.
"Padawan, what did he do?" Qui-Gon was darkening as well, knowing the inventiveness
of his former Padawan and the instability and susceptibility of his current
Padawan. He would not allow Xanatos to torture his Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan cast his eyes to the floor. He was silent, and Qui-Gon could see that
he still held his breath. Obi-Wan was clearly disturbed by something Xanatos
had done last night. Qui-Gon slid from the bed and sat facing his Padawan. He
took Obi-Wan's face in his hands and directed it upwards to face him.
"Obi-Wan, look at me. You must tell me what he has done. A Jedi faces what troubles
him and overcomes it. Allow your fear to flow into the Force. Nothing you say
will make me think less of you."
Obi-Wan slowly raised his eyes to lock on his Master's intently focused countenance.
He remembered to breathe, and looked into the deep blue eyes that had so often
been his comfort and his universe. With the exhalation, he began, "Xanatos used
the Force to...excite me. He...touched me with it...in a controlled way." Obi-Wan
had lost words to describe the experience, but he could see that Qui-Gon understood.
Qui-Gon settled into a comfortable sitting position in front of Obi-Wan. This
made the padawan fidget, for he knew he was in for a cross-examination. He wasn't
sure he could withstand Qui-Gon's questions without completely falling apart
and saying something that would change their lives forever.
Obi-Wan understood the importance of respecting his master and keeping nothing
from him, and it had always been easy before, once he knew Qui-Gon had truly
accepted him. But now, a new dimension had entered into the Padawan's consciousness
and he couldn't banish it, couldn't return to the blissful unaware state he
had enjoyed in his early years as Qui-Gon's Padawan.
Obi-Wan suddenly flushed even more deeply as he made himself say it. "I enjoyed
it. I found I didn't want him to stop doing it. I'm not able to defend against
it. I've become weak, Master." A lump was forming in Obi-Wan's throat and his
eyes misted. His breath came more quickly and shallowly, as he revealed his
distress to his Master.
He looked up into his Master's eyes with the most despairing of expressions.
"Does this mean I'm unworthy of being a Jedi? I almost fell to the darkness;
now I am rendered insensible by the attentions of a monster? Can I not be trusted
anymore, Master?" Obi-Wan's teeth were clenched and his chest heaved shallowly,
as if he were afraid to take a full breath before Qui-Gon passed sentence on
him.
Qui-Gon's expression showed no reproach, but Obi-Wan thought he recognized something
else, something altogether inappropriate for the depth of his despair--amusement.
Was his Master now laughing at him? Obi-Wan's eyes widened and frustration set
in. He rose quickly and whirled toward the drapery that formed the door to their
quarters.
Even more quickly, Qui-Gon was in front of him, his arms firmly planted on Obi-Wan's
shoulders, his body a rock holding the distressed young man rooted to the spot
on which he stood. Slowly, Qui-Gon backed Obi-Wan up onto the bed. He fell to
a sitting position and stared incredulously up at his Master, who still held
him immobile.
"You do not simply walk out on your master, Padawan. The problem you are facing
is also my problem. Every master goes through this with his or her padawan eventually.
It is not an easy thing to face, but you are not the first one to face it. I
am only sorry you had to be introduced to it by one such as Xanatos. You are
more worthy than that."
Obi-Wan's jaw gaped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from his master.
His center returned suddenly to him as he realized the depth of feeling Qui-Gon
had for him as padawan. He sometimes lost sight of his master's feelings in
his struggle with his own. He had been blind to his master's struggle.
"I'm sorry, Master. I want to do the right thing. I want to make you proud of
me, but I keep disappointing you." Obi-Wan's eyes burned into his Master's.
"I have been so focused on my own problems that I did not think of you, the
effect my actions have had on you, on others here. I have not been mindful,
and I might have done great damage. "
Obi-Wan sank off the bed to the hard floor and bowed calmly but formally to
his Master, curling his body over his bent knees. "I submit myself for discipline.
I have not behaved as a Jedi is required to behave, and I recognize that."
Qui-Gon sighed deeply, as he took in the sight of his padawan nearly prostrated
in front of him, completely at his mercy. No, Obi-Wan, you don't know the
half of my struggle, but it is mine and I must not subject you to it.
"Obi-Wan, you do realize why this has happened to you, don't you? The answer
is quite simple, and you needn't fear that it will haunt you for the rest of
your life." Qui-Gon gently held his padawan's shoulders and straightened the
young man to a natural sitting position.
"You are eighteen standard years of age. This is the natural time in your life
for your body's hormones to cause you to be susceptible to such an 'attack'.
Xanatos knows this, as he went through it too. He attacked you at your weakest
point. But as you enter adulthood, you will overcome the weakness, and you will
learn how to deal with what you feel."
Obi-Wan now held his master's eyes steadily, an intent expression showing he
absorbed every word his master was saying. His eyes sparkled with new understanding,
but it did not dampen the rising feeling that assaulted him now in the presence
of his master.
When Obi-Wan remembered his encounter with Xanatos, all he felt was horror,
but he found that he wanted to repeat the experience...with Qui-Gon. He wanted
to erase the agony which mixed with the ecstasy he had felt with Xanatos by
burying himself completely in his master's embrace. The feeling was overwhelming,
especially now that he knew his master regarded him so highly, despite his recent
failings.
He found himself falling into Qui-Gon's midnight blue eyes, wanting desperately
to be engulfed by his master's whole essence, to become one with Qui-Gon. He
fell forward into his master's arms and held on tightly.
Qui-Gon nearly cried out as Obi-Wan fell into his arms; he took several deep
breaths as he held his padawan close. He had to control himself. It was his
duty as Obi-Wan's master. Anything less would be a betrayal of the complete
trust Obi-Wan had placed in him when he had accepted Qui-Gon as his master.
Long moments passed, and Obi-Wan continued to hold on, seeking closeness and
reassurance in his Master's arms. Qui-Gon thought he felt Obi-Wan's breathing
becoming ragged. He would be there for Obi-Wan, a rock to support him, an example
for him to follow. It was not an easy task for Qui-Gon; he faced new sensations
he remembered vaguely with Xanatos and Irylian, his first padawan. But they
seemed so irresistible now.
This would be a lesson for the master as well, Qui-Gon thought, as he struggled
to center himself in his padawan's embrace.
The energy flowed unhindered around the prone figure on the wheeled table. Deep
gashes in his chest and neck knit together at a visible speed. No light filtered
into 16B, where Xanatos lay deep in meditation. His focus was completely inward,
drawing the Force into him, washing the poisons out of him, flushing them back
into the reservoir of the Living Force.
The Dark warred with the Light as he concentrated his energy; healing lapsed into
patchwork. Xanatos found himself strengthening, but the pain also increased with
his efforts.
It had been 18 hours since his old friend had taken pity on him and delivered
him from the prison into which he had been dumped so unceremoniously the day before.
As the day waned, Xanatos surfaced into his own thoughts again. There was nothing
to do but lie in the dark and gather strength. In the absence of external stimuli,
his own mind whirled.
He thought of Khraghar and Kaluga in the old days, when everything had seemed
so simple. Xanatos had worshipped Kaluga, had wanted to have her accept him as
a future mate even. The flashing fire and intelligence behind Kaluga's deep brown
eyes matched his own, and her tongue was as sharp as her eyes. She had completed
the construction of her first lightsaber days before Xanatos was able to; they
were always in competition, and she was a worthy rival.
But Xanatos did not want her as a rival; as she grew older and became Val-Kyr's
padawan, he realized he wanted her close to him. He had wanted to feel her in
the depths of passion for him and only him.
She, on the other hand, had had eyes only for the unassuming Khraghar, the initiate
who just wanted to grow beautiful plants. When Khraghar left to join the AgriCorps,
she had professed her love for him to Xanatos, thinking he would tell Khraghar
what she could not. Khraghar left Coruscant never knowing.
A few years later, when he and Qui-Gon returned to Coruscant, he had found Kaluga
again. A lighthearted session of sparring had turned quickly into a heated game
of cat and mouse as Xanatos decided he had waited long enough. He finally knocked
Kaluga's lightsaber away and fell upon her roughly, tearing her clothing and raping
her most viciously. All the while, he held her down with the Force that he had
become increasingly adept in manipulating in his short tenure with his master.
She had fought him with everything she had, but he had used Dark tricks. She would
never tell her master, Khraghar or anyone of the incident. When she finally struggled
free, she closed her mind and ran. She never again let her presence be known to
Xanatos or his master. She disappeared to them; and later she would disappear
to all. Xanatos had seen to that.
Xanatos' eyes filled with tears at the remembered incident. He couldn't have her,
so he had killed her. What did it gain him? Even immediately after the explosion,
Xanatos was mortified at what he had done. He had huddled in the corner of his
and Qui-Gon's quarters, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, hating himself for
having done it, but hating her for making him do it.
Qui-Gon had thought he was mourning his old friend with particular zeal. How blind
his master had been.
In the mid-morning, the transport ship arrived to take
the survivors to Hye-Thurian, the nearest large city
with adequate medical facilities. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan
assisted in transporting the wounded from their rough
pallets in the Agridome to the large hospital ship.
Many had died over the night, while others recovered
sufficiently to walk aboard the ships. It was still a
grueling physical job, and the two Jedi were exhausted
by the end of the afternoon. All of the non-ambulatory
patients had been transferred by late afternoon.
Qui-Gon turned to Khraghar, who had just finished
loading the last of the stretcher patients. "Well, I
suppose we had better get Xanatos. I think it would be
a good idea to sedate him for the trip. He isn't known
for being the best of patients."
Khraghar's brow wrinkled and his eyes widened
slightly. "No worries. I'll get him. He won't do
anything funny with me. We go way back."
Qui-Gon looked unconvinced. "We do as well. I will
come with you. Obi-Wan, I want you to double check the
security in that hospital ship. I will be back
shortly." The Jedi master and the Jedi farmer turned
together and disappeared through the nearest hall
portal.
Obi-Wan had just finished his inspection of the ship
and ensured that all patients were strapped in
securely, when he felt the alarm through his training
link with his master. The padawan whirled where he
stood and quickly excused himself. He was running back
into the dome when he saw Qui-Gon and Khraghar
approaching at a similar clip.
Obi-Wan's face fell into a certainty of expression. He
realized what had happened. Before Qui-Gon could
speak, he almost whispered. "Xanatos is gone, isn't
he?" Qui-Gon's face showed a mixture of
emotions--consternation and slight anger that Khraghar
had been so careless, a touch of pride in his former
padawan's cleverness...
"We can't hold that ship while we look for him.
Obi-Wan, tell them to take off. We'll handle Xanatos
on our own. " Qui-Gon was slightly breathless as he
barked his orders. Obi-Wan bounced to his task, the
picture of a perfect padawan in action.
Qui-Gon and Khraghar moved off into an alcove at the
edge of the main dome area. "We shall have to sit and
wait. I can sense Xanatos through our old training
bond, and that will hopefully tell me where to find
him." Khraghar stared at Qui-Gon with incredulous
amazement.
"So, you were Xanatos' old master? What did you do to
him, then? He's so tortured now. Not like he used to
be. He said you...killed his father. Is that true?"
Khraghar's green eyes were burning with confusion and
barely suppressed anger. He did not expect the Jedi
master to confirm what Xanatos had said.
" I did kill his father, Khraghar. I cannot deny that.
His father had raised an army against his own people,
and Xanatos headed that army. Xanatos fomented a civil
war on his home planet that does not seem to have died
out even now. His father challenged me, and I was
forced to kill him.
"Your friend fell to greed and envy. He was consumed
by the darkness within him. He is not the boy you knew
so long ago. He is consumed with the need to destroy
me. He failed in his attempt on Bandomeer, but he
killed many innocents in the blind need to wreak his
pale revenge. "
Khraghar's face drooped as he held his face in his
hands. " It's a shame. When I saw him, I had such
dreams of him, me and our friend Kaluga getting
together again, like the old days in the Temple...do
you know Kaluga Kierant, Master Jinn?"
Qui-Gon's eyes grew distant as he remembered the
incident. He had returned from a Council session to
find his padawan crumpled in a corner, tears streaming
from his face.
"I remember her. She died with her master about 15
years ago. I never saw Xanatos cry so hard in my life.
They had been close friends." Qui-Gon raised his eyes
and noticed Khraghar's face had grown red; his eyes
had grown wide and pained. Khraghar's jaw was set.
"Xanatos told me she was still alive." His voice
strained and broke through his clenched teeth, and he
lowered his eyes from Qui-Gon's gaze. "He told me he
would get in touch with her and tell her where I was,
so we might get together again one day." The apparent
truth of it hit Khraghar like a lead fist.
Khraghar lost his facade of control and buried his
head in his hands, sobbing angrily. Qui-Gon sat,
resigned, comforting the agonized man. He would not
tell him that he had found out much later that Xanatos
had been the one who planted the explosive that had
killed Kaluga and her master. Khraghar had enough to
deal with now.
Obi-Wan watched the hospital transport ship leave for
Hye-Thurian. He looked on as it shrank to a pinpoint
in the sky. The second of the planet's two suns sank
slowly below the horizon. He returned in the direction
of the dome via the grainfield. He came upon the two
utility speeders parked outside the warehouse next to
the dome, and realized these would be Xanatos' first
line of escape.
The padawan quietly slinked through the grain and
reached the first vehicle, a weatherworn XP-7. He
opened the front panel and removed the power cell;
then he stalked to the second speeder and did the
same. Twilight was seeping into the complex, and
Obi-Wan cast about in his vicinity to determine
whether he was alone. Time enough to join the search;
for now, Obi-Wan needed to center himself.
He stood in the tall grainfield as twilight came, and
he felt himself being engulfed by the shadows of the
grain around him. He slowed his breathing and closed
his eyes, remaining standing in the deep blue light.
Energy gathered around him; a comfortable deep blue
aura grew about him and he started to calm.
A picture of his master appeared in his mind. Qui-Gon
was embracing him as he had done in their quarters,
only this time he had taken Obi-Wan's face in his
large hands and kissed him deeply, entwining their
tongues and drawing each within the other. It was a
peaceful, fulfilling sensation, but Obi-Wan found
himself breathing harder and faster, losing his center
even as the pleasant sensation rose.
He shifted the meditation. A recent saber
demonstration at the Temple--Obi-Wan had been
challenged by Mahri-Lan, another padawan who was eager
to try out some new techniques her master had taught
her. He felt the breeze of dynamic calm float through
him at the memory of his match. It had almost seemed
as if he and Mahri-Lan were dancing, both rigidly
performing the 8th level kata movements, parrying each
other's blows exactly.
It had been thus, until Obi-Wan had felt a new layer
open in the Force; he forgot the form of the kata,
while Mahri-Lan continued in the prescribed movement
sequence. He found himself breaking through her guard
repeatedly, landing the stinging blows of a saber on
low power contacting flesh. Qui-Gon had been proud of
him. he had told him that was the whole point of
learning a kata and practicing it over and over---to
forget it and allow the Force to flow within the
framework of the kata's dance-like movement.
Obi-Wan felt his mind opening; his focus blurred and
he felt the Force gathering into him. The light
surrounding him deepened and intensified. He watched
through half-lidded eyes as a silent dark figure
floated toward him from the direction of the dome. It
moved steadily and noiselessly; it did not appear to
notice Obi-Wan standing in the field.
Obi-Wan rose out of his trance momentarily as he
decided this might be the errant Xanatos. He drew the
Force into him, hiding his presence. The figure moved
closer. As it came close, Obi-Wan saw he could see
through it; it appeared non-corporeal.
Like a dream, the shape moved in, gliding rather than
walking. Obi-Wan had seen shapes like this before
during meditation. Qui-Gon had called them "allies," a
strange name for incorporeal blotches of darkness that
were nothing if not threatening.
"An ally will expose your weaknesses and try
everything it can to get you to succumb to it. But it
is called an ally because, if you are mindful and see
it for what it is, it will help you overcome your
weaknesses."
Obi-Wan had not fully understood it then, but he knew
to accept them for what they were. Fear of the ally
led to its victory over you. You then were confronted
with the same fear, the same ally, again and again
until you finally overcame it. Perhaps Xanatos was his
ally.
Obi-Wan watched as the ally came near him, he calmed
himself and forced himself to look it up and down, to
identify it. Was it an illusion, a true ally or was it
a cleverly cloaked Xanatos? Obi-Wan set himself for
the crossing of its path.
It walked neatly past him, heading for the parked
speeders beyond. Obi-Wan turned silently, watched the
figure try the ignition on one, then the other. It
made no noise as it floated back in his direction.
Obi-Wan stepped clearly in front of it, it seemed to
lose even the veneer of solidity. It had become a dark
patch of air--until the Dark Force suddenly gathered
and came down like a lead fist on top of Obi-Wan.
It seemed as if the Dark Force itself had grabbed the
startled padawan and had thrown him down as if he were
a leaf in a windstorm. Obi-Wan's head bounced solidly
off the ground and the dark figure hovered over him
before stepping quickly around him and heading for the
warehouse.
Obi-Wan automatically swung himself to a standing
position and ran after him, igniting his lightsaber in
mid-stride. His vision swam before him; he felt the
blood streaming from his nose and ears. He forced
himself to breathe deeply and continue his pursuit.
The dark figure had lost its transparent qualities; it
was clearly Xanatos. Obi-Wan charged at him through
the haze of his rattled brain, reaching him just as
Xanatos turned to face him.
Obi-Wan had lost his equilibrium, but he managed to
aim a cut at Xanatos' center of mass. Xanatos floated
under and around the cut, toppling the already dizzy
padawan and slamming him to the ground once again.
The saber flew out of Obi-Wan's hands, and Xanatos
quickly pinned him with an incredibly powerful tendril
of the Dark Force he was channeling. Obi-Wan opened
his eyes, but he found he could not focus. The dark
figure whirled in his sight and he had to shut his
eyes before he became nauseated.
"You're all too easy, Obi-Wan. Or do I just have more
power at my command than you do?" Xanatos emphasized
his statement with a soft but insistent pressure on
Obi-Wan's chest which drove the air from his lungs. At
the same time, he gently stroked the younger man's
groin, gently exciting him as he suffocated him.
"I just want to leave, to pursue my own destiny. Yet
you and your master insist on stopping me. Isn't it
enough that I'm disgraced forever? Does Qui-Gon have
to utterly destroy me?"
Obi-Wan's mouth flew open as he tried to take in air;
his rising arousal just made him dizzier. He felt
consciousness ebbing from him. In a spasm of
desperation, Obi-Wan threw his right hip up into
Xanatos, taking the other's center of balance and
rolling over him.
Obi-Wan fell on top of Xanatos, where he lay heavily
gasping for air and attempting to regain his
equilibrium. The padawan automatically brought his
weight down fully onto Xanatos, striking him with his
extended thumb-forward fist. Xanatos had other ideas.
Suddenly Xanatos pulled the padawan down into him,
causing Obi-Wan's hand to slip and his balance to
falter. Xanatos captured Obi-Wan's mouth and held on
tightly, centering himself in this contact. Obi-Wan
felt the desperation in the kiss, and he felt the iron
hands holding him as if he were the Universe.
Obi-Wan felt Xanatos taking him over again, his hot
breath close. " Do you know just how much I envy you,
young one? Qui-Gon trusts you without question. You
can do no wrong. You have everything I have lost. I
want you. And I want to be you." Xanatos' voice was
breaking and becoming raspy.
*Xanatos is afraid.* Obi-Wan could not help but pick
up the desperate agony in Xanatos' thoughts, his
driving need to hold on to someone. Everyone in his
life had died or he had turned them against him. Why
he latched on to him so hard, Obi-Wan could not
fathom.
The Light and Dark clashed around the pair as Xanatos
relentlessly channeled Force into the stroking of the
padawan's body. A tremendous wave of pleasurable
sensation washed over Obi-Wan in an instant, and his
gasps for air became heavier and more rapid. He could
no longer focus his thoughts or intention.
Xanatos rubbed firmly against him, sending tingling
shocks through Obi-Wan's overtaxed body. As Xanatos
began to touch him through his pants, the sensations
became overwhelming. Obi-Wan began to hyperventilate
as his recently deprived lungs now took in more air
than they could handle.
The dizziness increased and the padawan cried aloud,
his voice a breathy gasp. He was held fast. Xanatos
had freed himself from his own clothing restraints,
and he had pushed Obi-Wan over onto his stomach while
never letting go. Obi-Wan felt himself being gently
prepared with one finger and then another. Xanatos was
actually being careful not to hurt him.
"Relax, Obi-Wan. I want to show you this." Obi-Wan was
concentrating on slowing his breaths, trying to regain
his strength, as Xanatos continued. "I know you've
never had it before and I want you to know the
pleasure of it. You know I asked my old master to do
this with me and he refused me flat. I wonder what
he'll do when you ask him?"
Obi-Wan froze. Xanatos had wanted Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon
had rejected him. In that moment, he connected with
Xanatos, feeling the despair of having been refused
the intimacy with his master that he had craved for so
many years. Obi-Wan's own insecurities rose; the calm
he had striven for evaporated in the worry that
Qui-Gon might indeed reject him as well.
At that moment, Xanatos pulled Obi-Wan onto his lap,
sinking his erect member slowly into Obi-Wan's body.
Obi-Wan drew a sharp breath as he felt himself being
gently filled. Shocks of sensation radiated from his
prostate, and he began to shake with their intensity,
his breath rushing through him as if controlled by the
winds.
Obi-Wan tried to slow his breathing and regain his
balance, but the shooting pleasure pulsed within him,
and he could not control either. He found himself
holding on to Xanatos' encircling arms, rocking back
into the older man's sweat-soaked body.
Xanatos held Obi-Wan in a firm grasp, pressing his
entire body into him, pressing his mind against
Obi-Wan's confused Force-presence. He touched the
Light inside Obi-Wan and gasped with the beauty of it,
a beauty he could only observe and recognize. The
contrast was too much.
Darkness flooded Xanatos' thoughts as he realized just
how different he was from this innocent young padawan
who was, for all purposes, giving his body up for his
use. A harsh cry escaped the now-raggedly breathing
Xanatos, and he felt the Darkness overtake him.
What followed was a horror. Xanatos rolled on top of
Obi-Wan and pushed him savagely into the ground. The
gentle thrusts became intense and stabbing. A fog had
descended onto Xanatos, and he forced himself deeper
into Obi-Wan's body. Each stroke slammed Obi-Wan's
head into the ground, sending waves of intense pain
and dizziness through him.
Obi-Wan screamed at the sudden pain which assaulted
him from within. The sound of his own strangled cries
died in the air around him. He felt utterly trapped
and isolated within the bubble of Darkness.
The real danger of being torn apart from within
cleared Obi-Wan's mind enough for him to struggle away
for an instant, but in that instant the force upon him
became crushing.
Xanatos held him with his tenuous command of the Dark
Force; his thrusts became faster, his breathing a
harsh, rasping pant. Sweat pasted Xanatos' long black
hair to his flushed face; there was nothing of Xanatos
in the eyes which bored into the trapped padawan
beneath him. Deep red wisps floated around the pair,
growing stronger, feeding off their energy.
Obi-Wan felt a wave of painful ecstasy rising. His
body shook violently against Xanatos' pounding
thrusts, and a sharp warmth overtook him. Obi-Wan
panted uncontrollably as the waves broke over him,
pain and pleasure both finding their mark. Xanatos had
lost control; Obi-Wan's harsh cries began to carry
outside their immediate area, echoing off the dome, as
Qui-Gon and Khraghar were emerging.
Xanatos cried out as he spilled himself inside
Obi-Wan; the possession faded and left him gasping for
air that would not come into his lungs any longer. He
coughed roughly, tasted the blood in his mouth. he
forced himself to his feet.
At that moment, sounds broke into their perimeter.
"Ki-Yana had said she sensed someone out here a few
minutes ago. Maybe he's trying to use the speeders."
Khraghar ran alongside Qui-Gon, who suddenly felt an
overpowering wave of distress emanating from his
padawan. It was sharp, overwhelming and very close.
Another presence registered, one tainted with
Darkness. Obi-Wan and Xanatos.
Qui-Gon broke into a run. He did not get far, when a
pale figure rose almost right in front of him. Xanatos
leapt at Qui-Gon, his face twisted in a mask of
desperation. He called Obi-Wan's lightsaber to his
white shaking hands with a great deal of effort.
The sweat and blood glistened on Xanatos' pale skin in
the blue glow of the saber in his hands. He found his
ex-master's eyes and fixed on them.
In the space of fractions of a second, Qui-Gon had
ignited his green saber to counter the attack of the
blue saber of his padawan. Xanatos was tentative,
though, swaying on his feet as he lunged in, obviously
exhausted and unbalanced. Qui-Gon easily parried his
clumsy attacks.
Xanatos opened himself to Qui-Gon's saber again and
again, until Qui-Gon knew he was purposefully putting
himself in the way of the cuts. At that point, Qui-Gon
ducked under a half-hearted slash and drove Xanatos to
the ground using his command of the other's balance.
Qui-Gon stood over Xanatos, his saber glowing in the
dull grainfield, lending the dark yellow stalks an
eerie green glow. Xanatos laid his arms to either
side, and closed his eyes. His ineffectual gasping
slowed and he whispered, "It's time to get rid of the
bad apprentice now, master. He knows the emptiness of
the path he has chosen, and he wants out!" His voice
rose to a harsh rasp, and he coughed in a sudden
spasm.
Blood tinged his lips and his breathing became further
labored.
"It's not that easy, Xanatos." Qui-Gon held the eyes
of the fallen apprentice steadily, his own face a mask
of determination. He stepped around the ragged figure
that lay before him.
Khraghar cautiously approached and cast a long look at
his old friend. Xanatos was white as a sheet, blood on
his face from his ravaged lungs, which obviously had
not healed as he had thought.
Khraghar's expression was unreadable. "So you thought
to escape, did you, Xanatos? What is it you've done
anyway? And why did you think you had to lie about
Kaluga? You aren't the old friend I remember. I don't
even recognize you anymore. "
Khraghar turned away, a single tear burning in each of
his eyes for the loss of his friend. His voice shook
slightly. "That's one hell of a fallen apprentice you
have there, Qui-Gon. I suggest you do what he says. "
Khraghar looked back once at the slowly ebbing
Xanatos, and he quickly started back toward the dome.
"Stop." Qui-Gon stopped him with a word. "Khraghar,
you will stay and help me transport him to the
authorities. I need your help now. Let him go as I had
to." Khraghar paused and met Qui-Gon's eyes. The
regret buried deep within their blue depths was
apparent now to him. He shared it in full measure.
"Watch Xanatos while I find Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon turned
away quickly and stepped around Xanatos, scanning the
surrounding grainfield for the Force-presence of his
apprentice. What he found caused him to lose his
composure completely.
Obi-Wan lay in the tall grass, mumbling incoherently,
eyes unfocused and staring straight up. The padawan
was not really aware that his master was near. He lay
in the tall grain, his pants around his ankles, blood
staining his face and torso.
"Master?" Obi-Wan intoned weakly. "Will you reject me
too? Like you did him?" Obi-Wan was not focusing on
the tall Jedi who stood over him. Apparently, he was
unaware of Qui-Gon's presence. His Force-presence was
wavering, even at this close range.
Qui-Gon knelt quickly beside his apprentice to assess
the extent of his injuries. "Obi-Wan? Can you hear me?
Are you all right?" Qui-Gon could not keep the rising
panic out of his voice when Obi-Wan lapsed back into
silence. Tendrils of fear seeped into Qui-Gon's
smoldering blue eyes, as he tried desperately to gain
response from his padawan.
Qui-Gon regained a forced calm as he reached into
Obi-Wan's mind through their bond. Confusion and
distress greeted him. He reached into his pouch for a
small portable light source and shone it into
Obi-Wan's eyes. The pupils were dilated evenly, but he
had obviously taken a blow to the head as his gaze
appeared unfocused.
Qui-Gon turned roughly to the slumping form of
Khraghar behind him. " Get Xanatos inside. I don't
want to see him. Now!" He turned immediately back to
the limp form of his padawan, who gasped shallowly as
he attempted to sit up. Qui-Gon grunted with
suppressed anger as he noticed the blood staining
Obi-Wan's face, his tunics, his bare lower torso.
The master helped his apprentice to his feet,
steadying him, pulling his trousers up. It was clear
to Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan had been brutally raped.
Qui-Gon's jaw set and he took several long deep
breaths before he was able to look at the ravaged form
of Obi-Wan again.
Khraghar felt the way Qui-Gon had sounded. He released
as much anger as he could manage and knelt down to
heft the burden of Xanatos.
By this time Ki-Yana had joined them in the field and
assisted Khraghar with the groggy, weakly protesting
Xanatos. As the two AgriCorps Jedi carefully pulled
Xanatos into the nearest wing of the dome, Qui-Gon
carefully lifted his padawan from his bed of grain and
gently helped him to his feet. Obi-Wan was able to
stumble slowly along with his master's help.
Ki-Yana sat beside the small bed which held the
failing body of Xanatos; her eyes were closed, her
concentration complete. She laboriously healed the
man's ravaged lungs, pumped the Darkness from his
body, filling it with her Light. She could do nothing
for his spirit, but she could at least reverse the
damage he had done to his body through his dalliance
with the Dark Forces.
*How little the young understand the true nature of
Darkness* she mused to herself. *They think it will
bring you power, that it will make you strong and
superior to others. It promises much, but it takes
everything from you in return for the little that it
gives.*
She looked down at the haggard skull-like face of
Xanatos. She now knew of his terrible crimes, his
wrongs against his master, against Obi-Wan the
apprentice, against Khraghar, who was her close friend
and one of the best men she knew in her long life. Yet
she could feel no hatred for this ravaged soul.
It was clear to her that Xanatos gained no pleasure
from what he did; his evil destroyed him as much as it
destroyed those around him. He had given in to the
dark promise, and he now was paying his dues to
Darkness. The tragedy of it was that the evil would
demand more and more of him, each time eating away
another part of his soul, until nothing would be left.
Ki-Yana wondered how much of this man's soul still
lived and how much had been consumed. She stroked
Xanatos' matted black hair away from his face. Qui-Gon
had told her he was in his late twenties, but he
looked much older now. His features were sunken, his
face a mask of death. She deepened her trance, opened
herself to the corruption within Xanatos, filtering it
through her own body and soul, releasing it finally
into the Force.
Xanatos did not toss or turn. His body was immobile,
but his mind was not.
K7...Core 5. The two Jedi fought as a team, although
they were not Master and Apprentice. Tandem saber
strokes drove Xanatos deeper into the mine. But he had
the control. The way out. He had a plan. He backed
confidently against the back wall of the unstable Core
5 shaft level. As he waited for the shift in the
thermoelectric properties of the wall, he watched
Obi-Wan then Qui-Gon disappear into another part of
the wall.
The dust began to gather in the shaft, as the familiar
explosive device counted down numbers lower than those
he had remembered seeing in his memories. Xanatos
pressed himself desperately against the wall that
refused to fade as he had engineered it to do.
The miners killed in first blast he had engineered
suddenly began to filter through the solid rock. They
swirled around him, speaking in short sentences. " You
killed us, and we know this." Another: "We are safe
now, but you are not." Another: " You will never be
safe enough." Another: "You will destroy yourself."
They sounded like threats, but also like simple
verities, like someone telling a man's freshly severed
head that he is now dead. A glowing aura surrounded
one of the approaching wraiths as she resolved into
familiarity.
Kaluga stood before him, dressed in the dirty practice
tunics she had worn when Xanatos had attacked her so
many years ago. A bright blue glow encompassed her,
and she smiled slightly. All around her was
contentment, no hint of the desperate darkness with
which Xanatos had covered her.
She looked like a projection, but she stared straight
into Xanatos' eyes and through to his soul. This was
Kaluga come back to torture him, he thought in his
dream-state. Her endless brown eyes swallowed him into
the past; she spoke in a ringing whisper. " Xanatos,
you think you have done me the great wrong, but it is
yourself you are wronging. I forgive you and so does
Val-Kyr. We are in the Force where nothing dissonant
can occur."
Her soft, sweet voice fell on Xanatos' ears and flung
him back into the past. The friendly match turned
horrible rape; the agony in Kaluga's cries rang in
Xanatos' head, contrasting sharply with the sweet even
tones that filled the space he now inhabited.
He remembered everything--the slight tipping of her
balance caused by her overcurving right toe...he,
throwing her down with the force of full-contact
sparring, his failure to let her up. He felt the raw
need that pulsed through him; she was an easy target,
as she could never have expected that her friend would
not only throw her down, but would use dark energy to
keep her horrifyingly immobile.
Kaluga spoke again. "My only regret was not telling
your master about it. I was too ashamed of my weakness
to let anyone know. Perhaps I could have saved the
Jedi from a monster like you. And you would not have
so much to feel hatred for." The blue light floated
around her, sharply delineating her from the gray
Xanatos, who was amazed at her frank choice of words.
He could only stand there and stare at the apparition,
which began to wisp away and change before his eyes.
Xanatos sank deeper into the morass of his own mind,
feeling it sifting as Ki-Yana pumped her healing
energy into him. His body knit together as his mind
fell deeper into remembrance.
Inside their small quarters, Qui-Gon sat silently next
to the bed which held his injured padawan. Qui-Gon had
induced sleep and was now concentrating on relieving
the pressure on Obi-Wan's brain from the head trauma
he had suffered.
Deep within that veil of sleep, Obi-Wan warred with
his ally. Xanatos had gone, but he had planted seeds
within Obi-Wan which were flowering dangerously within
him. He knew he was not like Xanatos, and yet they had
connected on some level through their desire for
Qui-Gon, their mutual master.
He flashed back to the talk they had had only
yesterday. Qui-Gon had taken his distress at losing
control with equanimity; he had seemed to be
sympathetic to Obi-Wan's plight. He had said Xanatos
had been through the same thing. Had this been when
Xanatos had approached Qui-Gon and been rejected?
The ally spoke its poison to him. * Qui-Gon is NEVER
tempted. Why should he be? You are just another one of
his apprentices. He will finish with you and take
another soon enough. And where will you be then?
Abandoned to find your own padawan and your own pale
imitation of your time with Qui-Gon.* The ally spoke
with Xanatos' voice. It spoke with the hurt tones of
one who has been rejected time and time again.
Obi-Wan reminded himself that Xanatos' fall was his
own fault; no one had forced him to choose between
rejoining his father and staying with the Jedi.
Xanatos had chosen to align himself with those who
instigated great evil and great suffering. And he had
multiplied that suffering throughout the galaxy by his
own actions. There was nothing to blame Qui-Gon for in
Xanatos' fall, except perhaps his fear of opening up
to Obi-Wan.
Even through their many trials, Qui-Gon had kept a
part of himself to himself. Obi-Wan could feel the
shields hidden deep within his master every time he
contacted him through their bond. He was coming closer
to those shields as his relationship with Qui-Gon had
begun to deepen in more recent years.
Obi-Wan realized that he would have to bring his
feelings for Qui-Gon into the open and risk rejection.
he couldn't see himself falling like Xanatos,
resenting Qui-Gon for his lack of reciprocation. But
to keep himself hidden like this, to always wonder, to
never be able to open completely to his master---these
things Obi-Wan decided he could not live with.
If Qui-Gon rejected him, he would live with it, and
things would continue as they had been. The ally faded
into the Force; Obi-Wan could sense and let go of the
fear which comprised it. His eyes opened, the pupils
focused and evenly dilated. The first thing his
focused on was his master's eyes. A small wistful
smile played on his features. This moment would never
come again; he drank in the river of possibilities in
Qui-Gon's ocean-deep eyes, flooded their bond with his
love for his master.
Qui-Gon's face lost the tension it had been holding as
he watched his apprentice's eyes open. He felt a wave
of emotion hit him through their bond. He felt its
nature, remembered the same kind of broadcast from
Xanatos so long ago. There was a difference between
them in this as well as with other things.
Xanatos had been desperate in his love. It was more
lust and insecurity than love. Qui-Gon had been unable
to allow Xanatos to fall into that trap, so he had
gently rebuffed him. Obi-Wan, however, had a serene
acceptance within him. The feelings he was sending
were completely without fear. They spoke of Obi-Wan's
devotion to his master beyond the need for
reciprocation, a selfless love.
Qui-Gon found himself falling into his apprentice's
gaze, knowing without words what Obi-Wan wanted. "I
know, Obi-Wan. " It was all Qui-Gon could manage to
verbalize. He returned his flood of feeling back
through their bond and watched Obi-Wan's face relax as
he fell back into his light Force sleep, the small
smile playing sweetly at his features.
It felt different this time. Qui-Gon remembered this
time with Xanatos, when the young apprentice had won a
saber sparring match with a much older padawan.
Xanatos had been sixteen standard years of age. The
joy and pride in Xanatos was in the forefront. He had
leapt into his master's arms in the rush of youthful
excitement and found himself to be aroused in more
ways than one.
Later that evening, Xanatos had found another excuse
to hug his master, in the privacy of their own
quarters. This time Xanatos hung on and pressed
himself into the firm body of his master. He had felt
the love from Qui-Gon, and it had driven him
completely over the edge. He grabbed for it with the
desperation of a man starving.
Xanatos was instantly hard, and the insistent friction
he created against his master caused an overwhelming
and sudden spasm of release. As his padawan fell
against him shaking softly, he realized that he had
to talk to Xanatos about it, to assure him that this
was a normal phase of the master-padawan relationship
and would fade in time.
Xanatos had been crushed, and Qui-Gon had noticed a
change in the way Xanatos interacted with him then. He
also realized that it distanced him from his bond with
his padawan. He looked down at Obi-Wan, and he
wondered if he would have to repeat the painful
ritual. What if he had given himself to Xanatos? Would
things be the same now?
Qui-Gon felt the whole nature of the master-padawan
bond being called into question. Was this just another
manifestation of his guilt about Xanatos? He had to
let it go. Obi-Wan deserved better.
Assuring himself that Obi-Wan was under the veil of
sleep, he allowed himself to drink in the beautiful,
relaxed features of his young face, the beginnings of
a furrow in his brow that would only deepen as Obi-Wan
faced the trials of taking his own padawan in the
future...Qui-Gon could get lost in that face. He bent
slowly and placed a kiss on his padawan's forehead. He
then turned silently and slipped out of their
quarters.
Qui-Gon moved like a shadow in the long hall leading
to the main dome area. He approached the hall where
Khraghar's quarters were, and he raised Khraghar on
the comlink.
Khraghar met Qui-Gon in front of his quarters. The
small, ancient woman was emerging just as Qui-Gon was
approaching. Her watery green eyes were surrounded by
dark circles and lines. The recent ordeal had taken
its toll on the fragile body of the old Jedi farmer.
She moved stiffly, but still with the grace common to
those who have followed the Jedi ways for so long.
She met the inquisitive stares of the two men, and
answered their unasked questions. " I have stabilized
his respiratory condition and eased him into a healing
sleep. I suggest that one of you continue to watch him
while I take my rest in my own quarters. I am not
young anymore and I do need my sleep. "
Her eyes twinkled for a second and she said, "Why
don't you flip a daktari for the privilege." She
chuckled under her breath and slowly retreated to the
dome for a long needed respite.
Qui-Gon and Khraghar looked at each other for a long
instant. Khraghar spoke. " I'll watch him, Qui-Gon.
You have an injured apprentice to look after. I know
the basic techniques of inducing a trance and light
sleep. In Xanatos' condition, I doubt he could resist
even me." A tired resignation spread across Khraghar's
sunbaked features, and he forced a small smile as he
nodded to Qui-Gon for reassurance.
The dim glow of the enzyme lamps cast Khraghar's weary
features in a bluish tint. He stared emptily at
Xanatos, watching half-heartedly for signs of movement
and wakefulness. He found none. Xanatos' breathing was
shallow and even, his pale face devoid of tension. *He
sleeps like a baby* Khraghar mused bitterly. * I think
I'd feel better if he had nightmares or something.*
Khraghar shook his head slowly, closing his eyes
against the serene awfulness of the tableau in front
of him. Unbeknownst to Khraghar, Xanatos was deep in a
nightmare; the Force was showing him his life by
recounting its watershed moments.
The first time he had triumphed in a saber sparring
session as an initiate; his grand adventure with
Khraghar and Kaluga in Coruscant's seedy lower level
alleys; his pride at being taken as padawan to Qui-Gon
Jinn; his confession of love for his master; his
horrible rebound which destroyed Kaluga's life; his
ascension to power on Telos; his first meeting with
Obi-Wan, almost a connection; losing everything on
Telos, finding himself lost....
Xanatos felt himself slipping through a vortex of
despair. His entire life had been a struggle to regain
the favor and innocence he had enjoyed in his younger
days. He saw that ideal in the older Obi-Wan; a
too-close reminder of just how far Xanatos had fallen,
how unattainable that state now was for him...he had
had to take a piece of Obi-Wan for himself.
Even as he watched himself inflicting the horror on
the young padawan, he realized that he wasn't getting
what he needed. In fact, Obi-Wan was taking from him
his equilibrium, his purpose, everything. Xanatos
simply fell apart and Obi-Wan absorbed him.
The thought paths of the fallen apprentice kicked
in--*It is enough to have corrupted the perfect
apprentice*. A new, darker thought accompanied it. *I
ruin everything I touch* The vortex swirled more
heavily, dragging Xanatos into murkier depths of
despair.
Obi-Wan had awakened suddenly, feeling his master's
absence. A strange fog hung over him, and his head
spun. He reached out for a steadying structure, and
found a box, which toppled as he leaned a little too
heavily. The unsteady padawan sank to regain his
balance and watched the contents pour out of the box
onto the small space of the stone floor.
Obi-Wan stared trancelike at the contents of the newly
upset box, and he slowly began picking each one up in
turn. As he performed this meditative activity, he
began to feel a spinning sensation not unlike the one
he had felt upon standing. He drew a quick gasping
breath and sat down hard on the bed.
Obi-Wan sat still for a long moment, his gray-blue
eyes studying a small insect that lay upside down on
the stone floor trying to turn itself over. He
listened to its insistent clicking sound as it
attempted to right itself; the sound became the
universe. Everything around him stood out in sharp
focus. He found that he was able to direct his
attention completely to the insect, without intrusion
of any of the fears and insecurities that had plagued
him only the night before.
This intensity played through his body too; he felt
every inch of his flesh, the soft nap of his tunics as
they overlapped on his chest, their slight movements
as he breathed. He felt his breath in all its
particulars, the oxygen returning to his brain, the
horror retreating to a dark corner.
He felt the Force flowing so clearly that he could
hear it rushing by his head, echoing through the small
room, until he could no longer stand to be in it.
Drawing several deep breaths, Obi-Wan rose carefully
and quietly padded down the corridor to the portal to
the grain field in which he had meditated only the
night before.
He found himself shaking involunarily as he made his
way to the grainfield with its awful familiarity. The
ripples in the Force from his ordeal that evening hung
low about the place, and Obi-Wan could feel every
nuance.
The full satellite of Dynantiun hung directly
overhead, casting a pale blue glow over the padawan's
tense features. Slowly, he sat, knees bent underneath
him, and breathed deliberately to calm himself. Long
breath in....slowly out...the shaking slowly subsided,
and an ambient blue glow began to encompass the lone
figure in the field. It shone through the tall stalks
of grain pure and bright. Obi-Wan was finding his
center without effort.
He allowed images to come into his mind as the Force
willed them. His early time as an initiate, being
rescued from drowning by a tall Jedi master at the age
of four; first feelings of the Force's infinity in the
Flow exercise...the overwhelming power and
exhilaration of being in tune with the Force; his
rather extended trials for padawanhood under Qui-Gon;
the utter fullness of perching on the precipice of
life and death for the sake of Bandomeer; realizing
what he wanted was not what he thought it would be;
his first encounter with Xanatos, the utter horror of
the fallen apprentice's twisted mind, invading his...
He remembered Xanatos' abject horror even better than
his own. He had left his body to Xanatos' use, but his
mind drank of Xanatos' soul, begging to understand;
pleading for him to see the tangled twist in his life
that made it all go wrong. Obi-Wan found that, as
horrifying as his rape by Xanatos' hand had been, he
could not hate him, even now. Xanatos was lost in his
own hate.
The grain glowed with previously unseen energy, bright
sparks of yellow Force luminescence punctuated the
circle in which Obi-Wan sat. A low fog of deep indigo
settled into this new place of power. Obi-Wan was more
open to the Force than he had ever been, and it
gathered around him, acknowledging his new awareness.
Obi-Wan's eyes misted with tears to be shed at the
painful change within him. For him, it was a learning
experience, the opening of a new door which could
never be shut again. While he couldn't bring himself
to remember the experience itself, he felt the rush of
new feelings as it had opened the universe wide again
for him. Nothing would ever be the same again.
As the universe opened for Obi-Wan, it was shutting
for Xanatos.
Xanatos came awake, but he did not move or make any
sound to hint at that fact. Khraghar sat slumped back
in the small single chair, his eyes glazed by the
lateness of the hour. He stared with fixed, watery
eyes at the perfectly still figure of Xanatos, who
presented the tableau of a lump of blankets with a
wild-haired head sticking out at the top.
Xanatos adjusted to his surroundings quickly, taking
in deep, even breaths and centering himself. Even with
his eyes shut, he saw the whole of the small
quarters--the shelves full of analytical agricultural
equipment, the dim panorama of a holocard of a
Force-imbued field of flowers, Khraghar's familiar
ceremonial dagger from his homeworld, the limply awake
figure of Khraghar leaning back in his chair, the
simple locking mechanism on the primitive door.
Not a muscle moved, even though Xanatos felt enough
tension to cause him to scream aloud for hours without
stopping. He was shaking off the fright from the
insistent vortex which had almost sucked him down in
his dreams, throwing up hideous memories like a
lawnmower in Hell. He pushed the dream away and
focused on his immediate surroundings.
A strong breath in drew ambient Force into his healing
body, tickling every nerve ending as it permeated him.
Xanatos remained perfectly still. The Force flowed
throughout his body, picking up his scent, mixing it.
Slowly, Xanatos gathered the Force closer into a
smaller ball in his abdomen. The intensity was so
great it burned. The burning rose and exited through
his arms into his hands. He held the core of his
Force-essence in front of him...slowly, he kept it
floating on the bed, while he extracted himself from
underneath it.
The ball rolled on the sheets, coating them with the
essence of Xanatos' being, folding back into the shape
of Xanatos. The Force-ball quieted and returned to him
as he flicked the primitive door-lock easily. He
turned briefly to watch Khraghar staring at an empty
bed. The fool relied too much on his feelings through
the Force. It had been easy to create the illusion
that what now lay in the bed was the very being of
Xanatos, when in fact it was a surface painting of all
that was *seen* as Xanatos.
A shadow stalked the corridor into the darkened main
dome and exited through the front door, right under
the nose of the preoccupied night manager at the guard
booth.
The Force outside the dome was more open, more prone
to the currents of the universe. It felt free,
untainted by the Jedi notions of Light and Dark. To
his far right, he saw a concentration of blue light, a
concentration of Light Force gathering in the
grainfield around a particularly tall patch of grain.
He turned the other way, towards the site of the crash
which had changed his life in the twinkling of an eye.
He followed the thin harvesting road straight ahead,
careful to dissipate his Force-signature as much as he
could.
He was close to his objective. Lakes of power resided
all around him. The Force flowed in nature in such a
pleasing manner, nothing pressing and insistent like
the will of Jedi. Dark patches also lay within the
fields, moving with unseen currents. A patch of the
field stood suddenly in front of him.
The patch became pure blackness, then resolved with
tentative green luminescence into an all-too familiar
figure. Qui-Gon, his old master now stood before him.
Quicker than a flash of lightning, Qui-Gon's hand
encompassed Xanatos' neck and easily drove him to the
dirt. By the time Xanatos had figured out that this
really *was* Qui-Gon and not another dream vision, he
was firmly pinned, his breath driven from him.
The eyes of the Jedi Master burned into him, pressing
him down even as effectively as the choke hold. Bright
green fire bored into his soul as he stared
open-mouthed at the man who was choking the life out
of him. As soon as the shock wore off, Xanatos cupped
Qui-Gon's thumb and tore his grip loose. But Qui-Gon
was firmly atop him now.
Xanatos' ragged gasps filled the quiet night as he
fought to breathe.
"You always had a penchant for doing damage, Xanatos,"
Qui-Gon spat at him. "But you have gone too far this
time.
"I know what you did to Obi-Wan, and you will suffer
for it, more than you can possibly imagine. " The even
tones held dangerous anger; Qui-Gon's aura sparked
with it, the Dark Side too close.
Xanatos felt the crushing force of his old master
pressing the air out of him, killing him slowly with
an invisible hand. He realized that this was not the
Qui-Gon he remembered. This Qui-Gon was being tempted,
and he appeared to be losing the fight with that
temptation.
Patches of sparking green and yellow flashed before
Xanatos' eyes as his body was drained of oxygen. His
muscles tensed involuntarily and he bucked violently
against Qui-Gon's sturdy weight, which refused to be
moved. At the moment he felt himself slipping into
blackness, Qui-Gon let go.
Xanatos gasped loudly as his roughly healed lungs
greedily struggled for air, but before he could catch
his breath, it was cut off again. Qui-Gon's face
suddenly loomed over him and engulfed him utterly. The
master's mouth captured the mouth of the fallen
apprentice savagely and completely. Qui-Gon pressed
against Xanatos' nose, again shutting off his access
to air.
An endless rising sensation flowed through Xanatos'
body at the same time he was starving for air. His
body tingled with shooting nerve signals as he was
simultaneously aroused and deprived. His body was
responding to Qui-Gon's attentions, but he could not
control it.
Stars swam before his eyes; he did not see his old
master, but he felt him in the core of his being.
Xanatos' body shook violently, fighting for air, yet
surrendering to the years of desire which teased at
being fulfilled.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.
Qui-Gon had let him go, he felt his head hitting the
hard ground. He heard himself coughing and whimpering
uncontrollably. As the air rushed back into his body,
his vision spun, then cleared. He saw his old master
sitting atop him, felt himself being firmly held.
Words began to resolve themselves.
" You realize I'm not going to kill you, don't you
Xanatos? But now you know just a tiny portion of what
you have put Obi-Wan through. And I'm sure Obi-Wan
will come out of it well. He was more mature at 13
than you ever were. " Qui-Gon's eyes seemed to glow in
the moonlit air as he spoke his harsh words.
"I never wanted anything but the best for you,
Xanatos. But I really should have beaten you within an
inch of your life. It seems to be the only way to
teach you anything. It's not my concern anymore."
Qui-Gon's words trailed off into a low growl.
Xanatos stared at Qui-Gon with a haunted expression.
He couldn't believe his master was saying these
things, and he realized more than he ever did just how
disappointed Qui-Gon was in him. The ego threatened to
rise and parry with its ever-ready boasts, but now
that Xanatos had lost all material goods, he found
that he couldn't think of a boast.
And here he sat, in the dirt, humbled and subdued by a
single kiss from his master, realizing that he had
nothing to show for his life. He would doubtless be
killed on sight on Telos; his entire empire was based
there. Everything from this point forward would have
to come from within him.
Xanatos looked within himself; he remembered the
sounds and feelings from the moments just before he
had plunged into the trap of desire, the sparring
session with Kaluga...his last moment of innocence.
Suddenly he realized he desperately wanted to jump out
of his own skin.
Reflexively, he jerked forward and rolled over,
toppling Qui-Gon, who rolled gracefully to his feet.
Xanatos launched himself at his old master, using the
force of a low stance to deliver a sharp blow to
Qui-Gon's midsection. Qui-Gon turned with the lunge,
barely touching Xanatos as he captured his balance and
turned 180 degrees, throwing Xanatos straight down.
The Darkness rose to replace Xanatos in his skin; he
enhanced a series of kicks with powerful Force-energy,
sending Qui-Gon flying into the ripe grainstalks. A
moment of disorientation was all Xanatos needed. He
disappeared with Force-enhanced speed, as Qui-Gon
jumped back to his feet and started after him.
The pools of energy in the grainfield swirled with
Xanatos' passage, each either attracted or repelled by
the concentration of Dark energy. It spread itself
around him even as it ate a hole inside him. He could
feel the draining effects almost immediately, as he
caught a rushing dark figure approaching him from yet
another angle.
The Republic cruiser lay just ahead of Xanatos, and he
quickly removed the magnetic code-box he had stolen
earlier. With a final burst of speed, he attached the
box to the hatch lock. In the few seconds it took for
the box to do its hack-work, Xanatos found himself
staring into the sharp, steady eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.
The hatch opened quickly, and Xanatos leapt upon the
ramp. In a blink of an eye, Obi-Wan was upon him.
using a deliberate, low attack stance, Obi-Wan glued
himself to Xanatos and dropped his weight, pulling
Xanatos down, rolling down the closing ramp.
Xanatos used the momentum Obi-Wan had created though,
to end his roll with a kick, and Obi-Wan flew off the
ramp and into the endless grain. Qui-Gon reached the
scene in time to watch his padawan sailing through the
air and the hatch pulling itself shut, Xanatos inside.
In an instant, Obi-Wan had rolled to his feet and
ignited his lightsaber. The whirling padawan lunged
forward, bringing the saber down in a relentless arc
across the aft stabilizer of the cruiser, throwing
wild sparks and sending pieces flying all around him.
He felt the tickle of the building repulsor field and
leapt away in one fluid motion as he deactivated his
lightsaber. Obi-Wan flattened himself as the engines
fired close to him. He felt the force of strong arms
encircling him, rolling him away from the
strengthening repulsor field; he just let everything
happen around him. He felt his master close to him and
relaxed.
Qui-Gon released his tight hold and faced his padawan.
"Are you all right, Obi-Wan?"
A nod. Suddenly Obi-Wan stood and withdrew a small
device from his belt, pointing it in the general
direction of their departing craft. He pressed one
button, then another. His expression was one of calm
calculation. He panted slightly with his exertions,
but quickly brought his body to a relaxed state.
"Master, he's disengaged the remote access to thruster
control and steering, but I have disabled hyperdrive
capability. That should make him easier to find."
Obi-Wan relaxed his ready stance and faced his master.
Qui-Gon felt a definite rush of pride this time.
Obi-Wan, always thinking on his feet. " You have
indeed been mindful, my clever padawan. We shall
perhaps retrieve our craft a little more easily,"
Qui-Gon smirked wryly, " but I think it won't fly
straight for awhile."
Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled. "It should be interesting to
see how far Xanatos gets." The ghost of a wry smile
lifted Obi-Wan's lips. "Want to lay bets, Master?"
Qui-Gon smiled wearily and shook his head. "I can tell
you're feeling much better, Padawan. We shall have to
warn the delegates that that isn't us in that
cruiser."
Qui-Gon removed his comlink, raised a very sleepy
sounding Khraghar. " Khraghar, where are you?" As he
waited for a reply, he noticed that Obi-Wan had sunk
to his knees and was slowly immersing himself in a
light meditation.
"I'm in my quarters. " Silence, then a gasp of
realization. "Xanatos is gone again? I can't believe
it. I remember seeing him only a few minutes ago,
snoring away, too. How..?"
"Never mind, Khraghar. He seems to have procured our
ship. Do you have tracing capability in the dome? We
need to know which way he is headed. Obi-Wan and I
will return shortly. All we need is the information if
you can get it. " Qui-Gon closed the connection.
The walk back to the dome was long but pleasant in the
bright moonlight. Qui-Gon looked over at his silent
padawan, who appeared to be taking every opportunity
to touch random stalks of grain as he passed along the
dirt path. Obi-Wan seemed to be walking in another
world.
The lakes of power were shifting in the field, by the
current of the Force, unknowable but definite. The
moon was descending full behind the AgriDome as the
two weary Jedi approached it on foot.
Khraghar met them at the dome's main entrance. " We've
been scanning in our area and in low orbit, but we
have not received a signal. Those Republic cruisers
don't have cloaking devices these days, do they?"
Qui-Gon slowly shook his head. He removed his comlink
from his belt and flicked it on with a long
dirt-encrusted finger. The delegates at those talks
would have to be warned, and so would the Council, the
local authorities, everyone. Qui-Gon sighed and began
the arduous task.
Khraghar attended quietly, but Obi-Wan begged his
leave and made his way to the 'fresher in the long
hall that led to their quarters. A short time later,
he emerged, dressed in a white AgriCorps tunic and
pants. He bypassed their closet quarters completely
and headed out to the end of the hall and the familiar
grainfield.
The field fairly shone with Obi-Wan's Force-signature,
his indigo luminescence sparked with gold. Obi-Wan
found his circle without trouble by following the
strong Force light which lay there. He knelt
immediately within the tall grain, drawing a boundary
around him as he descended.
Every movement was a meditation, every breath a river
of Force flowing through Obi-Wan. The light rose from
him in silence and broadcast its strength. Obi-Wan
reached into the training bond he shared with his
master and touched him with a single blue-gold finger.
An invitation, but without intention.
The intention was seated within Qui-Gon. It was his
place to take what his padawan had offered and accept
or reject it as he saw fit. Qui-Gon felt the touch
waft over him lightly as he showered, knew it right
away. Every movement of the long lean body was
purposeful. Every step closer to joining his padawan
where he was now.
*It would be the grainfield again* Qui-Gon's inner
voice said quite clearly. That field had been the
scene of recent trials for his padawan, and yet
Obi-Wan was still drawn back there. He could feel the
touch of his padawan in his mind, more uniquely
Obi-Wan than he had felt before. Pulling on a rather
too-short set of tunics and trousers from the 'fresher
shelf, he emerged into the dim hallway, striding
slowly and calmly.
Dynantiun's single moon had set behind the dome and
the field lay like the depth of endless ocean before
Qui-Gon. Slowly he began to see the lakes of
luminescence, pockets of power within the grain and
the soil itself, shifting with the complex currents of
the Force.
Centered just ahead was an intense concentration of
indigo and gold light. It surrounded his padawan, who
sat quietly still in its midst. The aura he exuded was
calm and sure, not desperate and fearful like Xanatos,
not even innocent and trusting like Irylian. Obi-Wan
was a strong presence in the Force and within Qui-Gon.
As he drank in the sight of him, Qui-Gon realized that
he could not imagine life without Obi-Wan. No matter
the past, it had brought him to this point, to
Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon stepped forward to stand at the circle's
boundary. Obi-Wan opened the circle to him with a
graceful cutting gesture, drew his master inside.
" This is my place of power, Master. This is where my
life changed and this is where I will it to change
again. " Obi-Wan spoke formally, but his eyes
reflected a resonant depth that had been recently
washed in powerful waves to the surface.
Qui-Gon felt his padawan's intentions, what his entire
being was asking, and he thought back to Xanatos. This
was SO unlike anything his former padawan had
initiated. There was no desperation, no clinging fear,
no anger or possessiveness.
" I know it is your choice to accept or reject a
deeper, more complete relationship with me, but I want
you to know that I will respect either choice. Before
my experiences here, I might have been more rash and
more desperate, but I have thought about it for a long
time now. I wish to have a full relationship with you.
I want to know your body and soul, and I want you to
know mine."
Obi-Wan's eyes never left his master's. His voice
wavered slightly, but his intention was clear. Qui-Gon
noticed that his breathing had sped up slightly. It
had taken nerve for Obi-Wan to say what he had said.
Qui-Gon found himself moving forward without volition.
He pulled Obi-Wan against him in one fluid motion and
held him close. "Padawan, Obi-Wan, you have been
through a great deal in the last few days. Are you
certain this is what you want? It is an important
choice."
Qui-Gon asked himself the same questions as he said
them aloud to Obi-Wan; he found that the hesitation,
indecision and fear he knew he would feel at the
revisiting of this awkward situation was melting away.
He could feel no guile, no fear, no hesitation even.
Obi-Wan was asking him with his entire being. And
there was no precipice in Obi-Wan's mind waiting for
rejection to cast him over into anger or hurt.
The light shone through Obi-Wan's eyes clearly, and
his answer lay plain for Qui-Gon to see. He balanced
himself forward on his knees and captured Obi-Wan's
serene mouth. That mouth opened easily to his touch,
taking in the essence of Qui-Gon, drinking in the Jedi
master's very soul, nourishing him with his own.
Qui-Gon felt years of embedded fears pouring from him,
long overdue for their release into the Force. The
doubts and barriers he had faced in his years
struggling to perfect the raising of an apprentice to
a Knight fell away. He realized that in total trust
there is total surrender.
He felt Obi-Wan's breathing speed up still further as
Qui-Gon lowered his barriers completely, some of them
for the first time in his memory. He felt himself
shaking, the joy within him producing wracking sobs
within his large frame. He pulled Obi-Wan even tighter
against him and wrapped himself around him, body and
soul.
Obi-Wan felt his master open to him and he lost
himself, became one mind with his master. He gasped
deeply with the beauty of it. Qui-Gon surrounded him
and fed him with pure light. He felt indescribable
waves of pleasure wash over him; every nerve felt
alive and filled to its utmost. He found himself
pressing insistently against his master's body,
willing them to join as closely as they could.
Qui-Gon stroked the soft fabric of Obi-Wan's tunics,
then gently eased them off. His large hands explored
the warm skin of his padawan with intricate slowness;
he felt the chills forming on Obi-Wan's chest and
back. Obi-Wan's breathing had become short and ragged;
his head was falling back. Qui-Gon licked gently at
the nape of Obi-Wan's neck as his hands reached
Obi-Wan's thighs, which were shaking softly with his
growing arousal.
"Master, you are teasing me. I can't take it much
longer. " Obi-Wan's gasps became harsh pants and he
swelled with readiness. Qui-Gon let the ghost of a
touch fall on his padawan's penis and Obi-Wan could
take no more. He fell forward onto his master, the
warm jets of pleasure shooting through him, sending
waves of sparking sensation over and over him.
Obi-Wan's shaking body held fast to Qui-Gon; his
padawan was as out of breath as he had ever been
during a long training exercise. Qui-Gon felt
everything as Obi-Wan was overwhelmed with his
spontaneous orgasm; the shocks beat into him; every
nerve tingled and vibrated. Qui-Gon found himself
falling atop Obi-Wan, his rock-hard penis pressed
against the wet body of his padawan. The pulsing
pressure pushed Qui-Gon into sudden release. The shock
hit so fast that Qui-Gon could not catch his breath;
he lay gasping and shuddering, wrapped around the warm
living form of Obi-Wan.
The living form spoke, his voice shaking with his
body. "Master I want you in me. I want you to take me
with love, show me the beauty in the joining with my
soul's mate." Obi-Wan's eyes watered as he entreated
his master. He chewed roughly at his lower lip,
obviously riding through a painful memory.
"Obi-Wan, you are not ready for that yet. You need to
heal completely. I will not jeopardize your well-being
for a single moment of pleasure, as much as I might
desire it and you. " Qui-Gon's indigo eyes burned into
Obi-Wan, searing him with their sincerity, but making
it clear that he ached for the feel of Obi-Wan's body.
"Master, I am healed beyond what I could ever hope to
be before this ordeal began. My eyes have been opened,
never to be shut again, and I know what I want. I know
I am ready. I have accelerated my Force-trance to
handle the physical healing as well. I have prepared
for this, and I know I am ready for it, Master,
Qui-Gon, my love. " Seemingly from nowhere, Obi-Wan
produced a tube of lubricant and handed it
unceremoniously to his master.
Qui-Gon caught the tube and grinned suddenly, his eyes
sparking. He met Obi-Wan's eyes suddenly; they locked
gazes, and Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon down on him.
Deliberately, but with a hint of impatience, Qui-Gon
prepared his padawan, applying more lubricant than he
thought necessary just to be safe.
Obi-Wan moaned low in his throat as Qui-Gon's long
fingers entered him and slowly widened him. The
fingers were replaced by Qui-Gon's achingly hard
penis, which gently but inexorably pressed into
Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan drew in a sharp, sudden breath at the pain of
the intrusion, but he deepened the inhalation and
relaxed as his master sank into him. The light
engulfed Obi-Wan as he let go and let his master take
him.
Qui-Gon began to move within Obi-Wan, stroking the
sensitive spots deep inside him, building sensation
from Obi-Wan's deep center point. Surges of current
played at the rubbing surfaces, grew inside both Jedi
as they explored within. Qui-Gon held his padawan's
legs and gazed down at the transported face,
transformed with his sheer surrender to what he had
wanted for such a long time.
Qui-Gon bent closer to his padawan's face, the angle
catching and stroking Obi-Wan's member against his
stomach until he lost control, spurting seed between
them, every muscle spasming, pulling Qui-Gon in the
irresistible current. Qui-Gon thrust uncontrollably
into Obi-Wan's shaking body as he spilled himself
inside him.
Sweat poured off the two entwined figures who lay
within the circle of light, holding each other. Small
shocks ran through Obi-Wan as he trembled softly
beneath his master's body. He felt the newly opened
mind of Qui-Gon Jinn, and it made his breath catch
with its indescribable beauty. His own shields had
dissolved away; he lay bare to his master.
They reveled in their bodies and souls stripped bare,
bonded together. The energy flowed effortlessly
through them. They had become a single river of
directed Force. The currents of light in the field
swirled close to them. Qui-Gon's shimmering green
intermixed seamlessly with Obi-Wan's radiating
indigo-gold within their shared circle of power; they
were the favored of the Force.
The field behind the dome had not been planted in a
very long time. The long-since composted stalks of a
long passed season's grain shone dimly under the
suspensors of the cruiser as it touched down silently.
A lone figure stalked from it, hiding himself under
cloaks of darkness and the Force.
Xanatos slipped through a grain chute at the back of
the dome and tumbled unceremoniously back into the
dome from which he had earlier escaped. His figure
formed the shadows of the night cycle.
He wove his way back into the dim hallway from which
he had emerged earlier in the evening. Khraghar's
quarters lay, unlocked, to the left. The shadow seeped
into the room, which was empty and dark. A dim enzyme
lamp illuminated Khraghar's life achievements, dried
samples of exotic flowers and grains mostly. Xanatos'
eye fell on the ceremonial dagger once again. He
removed it from its frame and held it delicately,
remembering the stories of its origin, woven
overenthusiastically by the young Khraghar to a bright
young Xanatos.
"It was the knife my great-grandfather used to slay
the evil landlord who enslaved my family long ago, and
then he used it to fight off land-hungry neighbors..."
Khraghar had sounded so ridiculous weaving such a
tale, but Xanatos found himself smiling at the memory
of it. Such an innocent time.
The smile faded quickly though, and Xanatos dropped
the knife at his side and stared at the blank door.
Suddenly the door opened and Khraghar appeared. His
eyes focused suddenly on the ceremonial dagger
sitting on the bed, then his gaze rose slowly to fix
on Xanatos.
Xanatos sat back on Khraghar's bed, staring at
Khraghar as though he was memorizing his features to
take away with him. Khraghar's deep green eyes
narrowed at the figure on the bed, and he spat out
words without thinking. "What are YOU doing here?
Haven't you got anyone else to terrorize? " His eyes
strayed to the dagger beside Xanatos. "Perhaps you've
come to ruin some more of my childhood memories..."
Xanatos never broke eye contact as he suddenly tossed
the dagger at Khraghar, who flinched but caught it
handily. "I remember the stories you used to tell me
about that dagger. Fanciful tales they were, but they
made it meaningful for you, didn't they?" Xanatos
spoke in a slow, almost bantering voice. "Slaying
dragons that hoarded their gold in vast caves...tell
me, Khraghar, what's the point in killing a dragon who
has no gold in his lair? Question of the day!"
Xanatos's eyes were burning now, his stare boring deep
into Khraghar. *Eyes of a madman* Khraghar heard his
mind reciting. "Why did you come back, Xanatos?"
Khraghar was annoyed, but also genuinely puzzled.
"You were always a bit slow, weren't you, Khraghar?
Well, I'll spell it out for you. I came back to wipe
my slate clean with you." A small, frighteningly
inappropriate smile crept slowly across Xanatos' wild
face. As suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone,
replaced by a serious, rather depressed look.
*He is a madman. The Darkness has him.* Khraghar
realized he was losing his hatred for this twisted
shadow of his former friend. Pity crept into its
place, as he stared into Xanatos' haunted eyes. He
began to think about taking proper measures, reached
for his comlink. Before he could complete the motion,
Xanatos dropped the bomb.
"I killed them, Khraghar. Kaluga and her master."
Xanatos' eyes were saucers, piercing into Khraghar's
fragile soul. Fire jumped into the farmer's eyes and
he approached Xanatos steadily, jaw firmly set.
"Why did you have to tell me that, Xanatos."
Khraghar's voice broke as he stood over the dark Jedi,
shaking with rage. "I could have lived a lifetime
without knowing that. You undervalue an innocent mind,
my friend." Khraghar spat the word "friend" in
Xanatos' face as he loomed over him.
Xanatos did not move, but his eyes were still fixed
steadily on Khraghar. A slender white finger reached
slowly out and touched the tip of the dagger grasped
firmly in Khraghar's right hand. Blood dripped slowly
from Xanatos' finger as he drew it along the sharp
edge of the ceremonial blade. His ice blue eyes
softened as he watched Khraghar's simmering rage build
slowly. Mist began to cover his vision, and he cursed
the tears that came at the worst possible moment. He
steadied himself and delivered the last blow.
"I raped her too, Khraghar. She never told anyone,
either." Xanatos' voice was barely a whisper, but the
words were clear.
The taut string holding Khraghar together snapped, and
the rage flooded his body and mind. He snarled loudly
and lunged forward at Xanatos, who had closed his eyes
and spread his arms wide. Khraghar felt the dagger
split Xanatos' skin, felt Xanatos collapse with the
contact, then a powerful hand pushed him away
suddenly.
The dagger clattered to the ground, and Khraghar fell
back against the wall. The dagger flew towards the
door suddenly. As he hit, his rage dissipated
somewhat; he turned to see what had happened. A small
silhouette stood in the doorway. Ki-Yana's slight
frame stood quietly, incongruously grasping the
bloodied dagger with one small wrinkled hand. Khraghar
had not even felt her approach, and he was quite
familiar with her Force-signature.
" Poor Khraghar. You almost fell into his trap, you
know. Even Xanatos doesn't realize what a trap it was
he set. If you had killed him, it would be a stain
upon your soul, a surrender to the Darkness within
you. " Ki-Yana's words brought Khraghar quickly to his
senses. He whirled to face her, saw that her eyes were
banked fire. The Force flowed powerfully through her;
Khraghar gasped at the power she had displayed. Not
once in all the time he had been here had he witnesses
such a display from Ki-Yana.
Khraghar tore his eyes from his mentor and turned to
assess the damage he had done. Xanatos lay upon the
bed, staring straight up. He took heaving breaths and
ran his finger mindlessly across his blood-sheened
midsection.
Ki-Yana strode purposefully to stand over the prone
Xanatos. Her age-worn features seemed even more weary
than was natural. She methodically tore his shirt open
and mopped up the spilled blood. "He is not injured
badly. Khraghar, get the bandages and antiseptic while
I contact the Jedi. "
Xanatos stared at the diminutive figure that stood
over him. The angel that had delivered him and the
devil that had kept him from oblivion. He found
himself at a loss for words; he lay breathing heavily,
feeling his soul tearing, accepting it because there
was nothing else to do.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan lay in their small cot-bed,
wrapped tightly around each other, both sleeping
soundly for a change, when the comlink began its
insistent beeping. They looked at each other with
sleep-lidded eyes, and breathed the same
word--"Xanatos". They dressed quickly and headed for
Khraghar's quarters, where they were greeted by a
strange tableau indeed.
Khraghar was bent over a fully awake Xanatos, wrapping
him carefully in many layers of white gauze bandages,
while Ki-Yana stood away, her robe covered in blood.
She held a bloody dagger in her right hand, her
comlink in her left. As the two Jedi arrived, Ki-Yana
snapped her head up and turned purposefully toward
Qui-Gon.
"A word with you please, Master Jinn?" She pressed
toward the door and Qui-Gon followed her out. They
began the short walk to the hall 'fresher in silence.
Ki-Yana entered the 'fresher and placed the dagger in
the sink gingerly, ran hot water over it. Qui-Gon
noticed it was a rather ornate looking blade.
"Qui-Gon, your former apprentice seems to have been a
thorn in many people's sides, hasn't he? Even my
protegee has had the misfortune to have been
acquainted with him. " She regarded Qui-Gon carefully
before saying more.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes wearily and nodded. "Yes, I am
deeply sorry for the trouble he has caused, but as you
see, he didn't really heed my teachings. Obi-Wan and I
shall see him transported to the Jedi Council for
handling."
Ki-Yana held up a hand as Qui-Gon began to speak
again. " I have a better idea, if you'll pardon my
presumption." Qui-Gon stopped short and fixed his eyes
on hers, nodded for her to continue. " I have a large
field behind the dome that your ship is sitting in
right now. It hasn't been planted in several seasons.
I suggest you allow me to wear young Xanatos down with
hard work. I am quite capable of handling anything he
tries. I didn't want to make a show of it, though."
Qui-Gon opened himself to her and realized what she
said was true. Although she was the humblest of
ancient farmers, she had a Force presence to rival
that of Master Yoda. The Force gravitated to her and
she played it without effort.
"I shall have to consult the Council, of course.
Theirs will be the last say, but I must say that it's
certainly unique. "
Ki-Yana's watery green eyes twinkled. "And even if it
doesn't build his character much, it'll help us get a
field planted. I don't think Khraghar will like it
much, but it is what the Force told me to do."
Qui-Gon returned with Ki-Yana to Khraghar's quarters, where a quiet but tense
scenario greeted them. Khraghar sat silently rolling up the unused gauze bandage,
while Obi-Wan stood against the wall and calmly locked eyes with Xanatos, who
sat completely still on the bed. The two apprentices' expressions were unreadable.
Qui-Gon greeted Khraghar briefly and wrapped his hand around the arm of Obi-Wan's
rumpled tunic. Obi-Wan let himself be pulled gently out of the room by his master.
His eyes held Xanatos' until they had cleared the room.
Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, and he blinked once. "That's it. He's gone from
me. Thank you, Master." The two Jedi walked slowly back up the corridor and
back to their comfortable, entwined sleep.
end: Watershed